


The Devil on Your Back

by ILoveTeamFortressToo



Series: Do Unto Others [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Nath is dealing with some issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Will update tags as relevant later in the story, shpees, slow road to recovery, the new BLU Spy needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveTeamFortressToo/pseuds/ILoveTeamFortressToo
Summary: BLU team has a new Spy.The RED Sniper really isn't looking forward to having to try and murder someone like the last Spy every day. However, when the new man arrives, he’s not what the Sniper’s expecting. Not at all. Things are about to get a lot more complicated.





	1. Prologue: Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again!

 

 

 

For just under two weeks, there was no BLU Spy at Double Cross, and Sniper flourished.

Unexpectedly down a man, the BLU team floundered, their lack of teamwork showing through more than ever. Sniper stepped in to take advantage of their disorder. Without a BLU Spy to target him, without having to glance over his shoulder every two minutes, Sniper could finally prove his worth.

The BLU Sniper should have targeted him but seemed oddly lenient on him for the two weeks. Sniper had no idea why, but tried not to question it too much.

Just as he tried not to think about recent events too much. The BLU Spy's departure may have lifted a weight from his shoulders, but the damage was done. It would take Sniper a long time to recover mentally from what he'd been through, from what he now knew. Michelle's betrayal clung to him as close as his own shadow and followed him down into dark dreams. But the truth was better than the unknown and Sniper knew that one day he would shake her off. One day. But not today.

Today nervous energy ate at Sniper, making him fidget.

'Ants in your pants?' Demoman joked, trying to lighten the mood as they waited for the match to begin.

Sniper grunted, distracted. RED Spy had reported to the team last night that the new BLU Spy had arrived. No one knew how he'd found out, and he wasn't telling. Even if he had, Sniper would never have heard the explanation. Anxiety had clenched a fist around his chest, a sensation so sharp and unexpected it had taken Sniper's breath away.

BLU Spy.

BLU Spy.

Not _the_ BLU Spy, he had to keep reminding himself.

But still, BLU Spy.

 

And now he was waiting in respawn, and the new BLU Spy was out there. Out there in his own respawn room, waiting just like him.

Another flutter of fear passed through Sniper's chest. He hated this. Hated how much power one person had over him, even after he'd left. Sniper had thought about that a lot over the last couple of weeks. He'd dwelt on the things the Spy had put him through, on how deluded and twisted the man had been. On how his influence lingered, even now. And it had made Sniper angry.

Sniper's hands clenched into fists.

_Never again._

Never again, he swore to himself.

The BLU Spy had played with him, used him. Dictated their every interaction. He'd had complete control of nearly every situation. And then he'd waltzed away, leaving Sniper to pick up the pieces.

_Never again._

Sniper gripped his rifle, jaw clenched. His kukri hung in its sheath on his hip, the blade newly sharpened to a razor-edge. He had no other weapon on him. The SMG he'd occasionally used now lay at the bottom of a nearby river. If anyone noticed it was missing, they said nothing.

_Never again._

It was time to take control of his own life. It was time to take control of the situation.

This new BLU Spy had better beware, because Sniper was never going to allow anyone to hurt him like that again.

This time he was in control. This time he'd do the hurting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Gabelew!](http://gabelew.tumblr.com/)
> 
> It's been just over six months since I finished Foe Yay. Six. Wow. Still not finished editing the AO3 version of it though (leaving the FF version as it is because it's much more fiddly to update.)  
> A lot of things have happened since I finished Foe Yay. A lot of them haven't been great!  
> I'm still struggling with chronic pain. I've got tablets now that help but they don't beat it entirely and typing is still the worst thing.  
> Had to quit my job due to pain. Had a couple of nice weeks after that. Then really badly dislocated my knee. Last three months have pretty much gone down the drain trying to recover from that. It was out for six hours and left me with some ligament damage and possibly some bruising to the bone. Still waiting on the MRI results. Even after all this time it's still swollen and painful!  
> Term's tip of the day: do not dislocate your knee!
> 
> As the chapters (and waits in between them) got pretty long for Foe Yay, I'm aiming for something a bit tighter and more focused this time. Less playing around with random scenarios that interest me, and more just getting on with the plot.  
> I'll hopefully see you all again soon!


	2. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been completely blown away by all the enthusiasm shown for this fic so far! I hope I’m able to give you something that lives up to the excitement!

_...3, 2, 1!_

The grill rattled opened and RED poured onto the field.

'Come on men, let's show the new BLU what he's in for!' Soldier bellowed. He'd seemed surprisingly excited about the idea of a new Spy. Sniper wondered if perhaps came from an urge to share his favourite rocket launcher with the BLU.

Sniper didn't join in with Pyro, Demo, Scout and Heavy's cheers. Instead a grim smile spread across his face. 'Bring it on,' he muttered quietly to himself as he headed for his favourite sniping spot.

Despite his determination, Sniper's hands shook more than he would have liked as he raised his rifle. He clenched his jaw, frowning deeply at the enemy battlements. He had no idea what to expect from this newcomer. But they also had no idea what to expect from him.

Two hours and three different sniping spots passed before he got his first look at the new BLU. He spotted a blue flicker behind a barrel as RED Medic and Heavy charged the main entrance to the enemy’s base. A rush of adrenaline slammed into him, but he didn't falter. Before the Spy had time to take a single step towards the nearby Medic, his head exploded.

Sniper punched the air with a cry of triumph, and then quickly ducked away from the window in case he'd attracted the enemy Sniper's attention.

Sniper's hands were still shaking, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

 _Welcome to hell,_ he thought to himself.

 

He caught glimpses of the new BLU Spy here and there during the day. It was clear what a disadvantage he was at, not knowing the terrain. Sniper made the most of it, slipping into the top storeys of various buildings that gave him views of the battlefield from odd and unexpected angles. More than once he caught the new Spy crouched behind a crate or hiding around a corner, completely unaware of how vulnerable he was.

Sniper never paused. He wouldn't even allow himself a moment to study the enemy, not even to watch his patterns and behaviour. The only good BLU Spy was a dead BLU Spy and Sniper was loathe to allow him to live a moment longer than necessary.

However, being so quick to act meant that his kills weren't always as clean as they should be. While other BLUs died to quick headshots most of the day, the Spy took a nasty shot to the shoulder or abdomen more than once.

Sniper knew he should feel bad about it. He knew he should be taking the time to line his shots up better, but every successful kill left him dizzy with triumph, no matter how messy.

However, there was one kill that later, much later he would look back on with regret. It came right near the end of the match, as RED Scout raced across the bridge, the final briefcase they needed clutched tightly on his hands.

Sniper spotted the new BLU uncloak behind Scout and level his pistol. It wasn't the fancy, heavy Ambassador that the previous BLU Spy had favoured, but a small, almost delicate gun with a dark wooden grip. All the same, it would only take one shot to stop Scout.

Sniper took aim, catching the Spy in the thigh. The Spy fired but his shot went wide as he collapsed and Scout disappeared out of sight. Sniper watched the Spy try to drag himself up to his knees. His bad leg wouldn't allow him and he collapsed forward, one arm braced to stop himself from landing face down in the dirt.

'Victory to the REDs!' The Administrator's voice shouted, crackling from a speaker behind Sniper's head. Euphoric energy swept through him, washing away the aches and pains of the day's battle, leaving him feeling almost as though he'd been ubered. (Which had happened only once or twice in the past and in Sniper's opinion had probably been a waste of time for everyone involved.)

Sniper didn't move though. He watched as the Spy slowly collapsed onto his side, grimacing in pain. He watched as the Spy clutched at his leg, blood pooling on the ground and soaking into his clothes. He watched as the Spy slowly raised his head to look across the battlefield, straight at him.

Sniper should have killed the Spy. Should have put him out of his misery. But a rage he hadn't known was still inside him, gripped at his chest. He narrowed his eyes and glared back at the Spy, fists clenched and heart thumping in his chest.

 _Never again_. Never again would he be the victim. And if the new Spy had to learn that the hard way, so be it.

Mercifully for the BLU, he died quickly, weakened by the humiliation round, his femoral artery nicked by Sniper's bullet.

Sniper continued to stare at his body until respawn snatched it away.

 _Smaller than the last one,_ a voice whispered in the back of Sniper's mind.

_Even skinnier than him.._

_Younger._

_Not_ him _at all._

Sniper turned his back on the battlefield, brushing the thought aside as he shouldered his backpack.

_Never again, remember?_

_Never again._

 

All anyone had to talk about at dinner was the new addition to the enemy line-up.

‘He’s BLU on the outside but he still bleeds red, same as any other man! I should know, I checked!’ Soldier said with satisfaction, as though this had been up for debate. Sniper wondered if he’d expected the Spy to secretly be some kind of robot or alien or something. That seemed like the typical kind of Soldier thought process.

'Medic, Medic! Did you see it when I hit him over the head with my bat?' Scout asked excitedly through a mouthful of jacket potato.

'I did,' Medic said.

'Did you see the way he just crumpled _straight_ to the floor?'

'Yes, Scout.'

'Like, it wasn't even that bad a hit! Maybe I just don't know my own strength!'

'No, Scout.'

‘Mrpth-urgh murpth murpth!’ Pyro announced with a happy chuckle. Sniper presumed whatever Pyro had said had something to do with burning and new BLU spies.

Engineer crossed his arms, sneering. 'Wonder how desperate BLU must be for new mercs if they're willing to hire the likes of _that_ Spy. Never seen someone mess up a sapping attempt so badly.’

'What happened?' Demo asked with a smirk. He'd already bragged about managing to blow the Spy up twice in the same half hour.

'I was building up my teleporter when I looked up and spotted the newbie uncloaking and trying to sap my sentry! Stupid idiot bungled something up and dropped the sapper as soon as he saw me!'

Demoman burst out laughing. The image of a spy trying to apply a sapper and dropping it instead would have been an amusing one to Sniper too if the story had been told by anybody else.

'Did you kill him?' Heavy asked Engineer.

Engineer snorted. 'Didn't even have to. I'll treasure the look on his stupid face as my baby turned around and shot him full of bullets forever.'

‘Caught little man trying to kill doctor. Crushed little man,’ Heavy said with satisfaction.

Medic sighed. ‘He still got me a couple of times though. He can’t be all that bad if he still managed that.’

‘Or maybe _you’re_ just that bad,’ Scout joked.

‘Do you want to be healed at all tomorrow?’ Medic asked, eyebrows raised in disapproval. Sniper joined in Demoman’s laughter that time.

‘Don’t underestimate an enemy just because they’re new,’ Spy chided softly. ‘We all were once.’

‘Well, I shot his head off about six times but he didn’t get me even once!’ Sniper bragged. Then he stopped to think about that that. It hadn’t really registered fully until he’d said it. The Spy hadn’t killed him once. But not due to being new to the location, not due to messing up an attack. But because he hadn’t tried to kill Sniper even once.

Sniper decided to still put it down to him moving around so much during the match, making it hard for someone who didn’t know the map. Because what other reason could there be for it?

 

Over in the BLU base, no one was eating together. The new BLU Spy sat on the edge a bed that was still foreign to him, half dressed, a hastily made cheese sandwich on a plate next to him. He peeled off his gloves and rubbed at his sore hands. Little tremors shook through them every now and then. He exhaled in annoyance, blue eyes narrowed. They’d been elegant hands once. Lithe and nimble, the hands of a pickpocket and a lock picker and a man of many many other talents

Today they’d shaken so much at one point he’d dropped his sapper, leading to an embarrassing death. His right hand had also cramped up just when he needed to shoot to stop the escaping RED Scout.

Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.

That had got him killed too.

By a…

By a Sniper.

He closed his eyes tight, grimacing, as though that would keep the memories at bay.

It did not.

 

_Three months ago. Another base, another last chance before this, even more final, last chance. Living on borrowed time._

_His last favour called in. All his belongings packed up, what few he’d gathered over the last few years._

_He’d been hopeful. Almost. He’d buried it under layers of pessimism and reality checks, but hope is like a weed: even when you try and destroy it, it can grow back if the roots remain._

_He’d been entering into an impossible war, so why couldn’t the impossible be possible this time?_

_He knew his way around a gun. Had encountered disguise kits before once or twice. The sapper was new, the cloaking device too, though he’d heard of such things before._

_It should have been easy. It would have been. Before._

_The team had been welcoming, as welcoming as eight suspicious, war-toughened killers could be._

_So he’d been hopeful._

_That had been his second mistake._

_The first had been accepting this damn job in the first place._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last chapter (and kind of forgot about it entirely) that I now have an ask blog for the Do Unto Others cast. Go [here](https://ask-the-foe-yay-cast.tumblr.com/) if you’d like to send in an ask! :)


	3. Facing your Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really enjoyed reading all the different reactions to the new BLU Spy so far! Keep them coming in! :)

‘Yo man, you’re new here so I’ll just give you a lil’ tip,’ the Scout said as they waited for the next day’s battle to begin. ‘Kill the enemy Sniper, man. Just sneak up and stab him in the back. That’s your job here, okay? That and sapping their Engineer’s sentries. I don’t blame you if you’re scared of him though, even our last Spy didn’t go after him much, but he was just a pussy pretending to be a badass, you know?’

The new BLU Spy nodded slightly, hoping the Scout would leave him alone. His dismissive body language didn’t seem to be having much of an effect though.

‘Leave the intel gathering to me though,’ the Scout said, gesturing to himself, chest puffed up like a pigeon. ‘I’m the Scout here because I’m a million times faster than any of these old man.’

Spy wanted to explain this wasn’t his first team. He knew what everyone’s roles and responsibilities were.

The teams themselves were very different though. None more so than the Scouts. The last one he’d fought beside had been a shy Brazilian man who’d only recently moved to the US. He’d been younger than his Scout. And much much quieter.

Spy regretted leaving his last base so quickly only because he’d had no time to say a proper goodbye to the Scout. The rest of the team he hadn’t cared about, but he’d enjoyed helping that young man improve his written English. The spoken, he’d not been so useful with.

Spy suspected this Scout was trying to get him to talk. It wasn’t going to work.

‘Scout, leave the poor guy alone,’ the Engineer said, sounding exasperated.

‘Oh come on man, I’m just giving him tips! I’m just helping!’

This team appeared more fractured than his last. Less welcoming, more hostile. The Scout and Engineer seemed to be the only ones who didn’t regard him with contempt or suspicion. They also seemed to be the two who got one best out of all the team. So maybe Spy wasn’t the problem here, maybe it was the team as a whole.

‘You already know what you’re doing, right?’ the Engineer asked him.

Spy nodded.

His silence definitely wasn’t helping him though.

Spy watched his team as carefully as he watched the enemy. So far he’d gathered only the most basic, shallow of impressions of them though.

The Pyro remained a mystery. Spy felt like they might be glaring at him from behind their mask, but it was impossible to tell. He also had a suspicion from the way their hips moved as they walked that they might be a woman, but with the full bodysuit and the way they were almost as silent as he was, that was also impossible to tell.

The Sniper seemed polite, if distant at first. By this point though, Spy was starting to suspect the Sniper might be avoiding him on purpose. Spy didn’t mind.

The Medic was...odd. Jittery and excitable and surprisingly bloodthirsty. The other Medic Spy had worked with had only ever drawn a weapon if he needed to protect an injured teammate. This one seemed more intent on killing than healing. And unlike the other Medic, he appeared to spend surprisingly little time with the Heavy on or outside of the battlefield, despite what a devastating combo they would be.

Like the Sniper, the Heavy was distant but reasonably polite, but it was clearly the Medic he tried to avoid, not Spy. Spy wondered what might have happened between them for such a reaction.

The Soldier didn’t like him. He’d said so during their very first encounter.

_ ‘This team doesn’t need another backstabbing little worm like you! Look at you, you look like a stiff breeze wouldn’t just knock you over, it would snap you in two! Pathetic! Now get down and give me fifty!’ _

That had been the first time Spy had used his cloak at this base to escape from someone. It would not be the last.

The Soldier had caught up with him again later of course, but so far Spy had avoided having to do press-ups. 

He did them every day anyway, part of his strict daily stretch and exercise regime. It wasn’t as strict as it had been though. He couldn’t manage as much as he’d once been able to. Therein lay all of his problems, bar the ones in his head.

The Demoman had been the most unpleasant, but also the most enlightening. He’d stumbled, literally, into Spy the first evening. Spy had stepped aside and intended to move away, only for the Demoman to grab hold of him by his lapel and glower down at him with one bloodshot eye and whisky on his breath.

‘Yer a shithead, you know that?’ he’d said, the slurring and the Scottish accent combined making it hard for Spy to work out exactly what he was saying. ‘Yer just a dirty, poncy little snake. Think yer better than us, don’t yah? Think you’re better than everyone on this whole damn base, you creepy little pervert!’

Spy had blinked in surprise and tried to pull himself free without angering the drunken man further.

‘Yeeeaahhh, we know! Don’t think we don’t. We know there’s something weird going on between you and that bloody Aussie! We know!’

Spy managed to twist free and escape, using his cloak once again. The Demoman left him with a rumpled jacket and some clues as to why his predecessor had left. He had no idea who this ‘Aussie’ was though, or what the last BLU Spy had done to or with them.

 

As Spy waited for the the last minute to tick down before they match began, he tuned out the Scout’s continued babbling and thought back to crossing paths with Double Cross’ last BLU Spy.

He hadn’t liked the man. He’d been aloof and rude.

But he’d also warned him to stay away from the RED Sniper. Why?

‘So, yeah, you’ll be going after the Sniper, right?’ Scout checked, speaking loud enough to distract Spy.

He nodded again.

It was a good thing he couldn’t speak, or he would have had to lie.

 

He’d learnt the basics of the bases’ layout the match before and spent much of this one exploring it further. There were just so many nooks and crannies to find. So many useful places to wait for a hapless RED to wander past, so many places to hide if he needed to recharge his cloak or found himself on the wrong side of  humiliation round.

This was useful work, the Spy told himself. This was vital information gathering he needed to do for the good of his team.

He even managed to get the odd kill in, shooting the Pyro with his pistol as they ran after the BLU Scout, and getting a backstab on both the Demoman and Soldier. It was unpleasant work, but at least he had a job. At least he had a roof over his head.  The Spy knew he could be doing a lot worse than this. He also knew that once upon a time, he would never have even considered a job like this one. But a job it was.

Even if it got him killed. Not once, not twice, not three times. Over and over. Not as often as the day before, but it still happened unpleasantly often.

He accidentally ran straight in front of a sentry gun while trying to help his team flank the Engineer guarding the intelligence. The Pyro caught him when he thought he’d been nicely hidden at one point. Burning alive was  _ unpleasant,  _ but at least this strange ‘respawn’ machine made sure neither the memories or the smell of charred flesh clung to him after he came back through.

It was as he straightened his tie and tried to gear himself up to head back out that the Medic respawned behind him. The Spy would have been able to tell he was swearing up a storm even if his German hadn’t been impeccable. The Medic switched to English, however, when he addressed Spy.

‘Just get out there and kill that fucking Sniper! It’s your job, do it!’ He stormed out without waiting for an answer, trying to elbow Spy hard on the way out. Spy twisted out of the away, giving ground to avoid the blow.

He waited another couple of minutes to allow Medic to get ahead. It was in restless, quiet, frustrated moments like this that his fingers itched to reach for a cigarette, even after all this time.

He had no idea how long he could keep this up, but he had no intention of going anywhere near the enemy Sniper, not until he was forced to.

Which was very soon, as it happened.

 

Sniper collapsed against the side of the dispenser with a relieved sigh, allowing his eyes to fall shut as the fumes wrapped around him, healing the burns on his arm and side. It was tickly in an oddly pleasant way, especially given what horrific injuries were being miraculously healed in less time that it took most people to rip off a sticking plaster.

He’d barely survived that encounter with the Pyro. Both of them had come away alive though, meaning Sniper didn’t dare go back and look for the rifle he’d dropped when he’d caught fire yet. He’d just have to hang out here for a little while to recover and hope Engineer didn’t find him. Sniper could hear Engineer from where he was, clanging away at his sentry.

Sniper sighed again. He should move. He really should-

‘Dagnabbit! You little —’

**_Bang._ **

Sniper shot to his feet, nearly falling over in his haste. He drew his kukri as he made his way as quickly and as light-footed as he could towards the source of the sound. He couldn’t hear any signs of Engineer. And all he could hear of the sentry was a crackling, static sound as it was sapped.

Sniper’s heart beat fast in his chest as he rounded the corner.

The sentry, collapsing down under its own weight.

The Engineer, sprawled dead on the floor.

The BLU Spy, reaching for the intelligence

It looked like the RED Engineer had made a mistake in underestimating the guy.

_ ‘The enemy has captured our intelligence!’ _

Sniper flinched at the Administrator’s voice boomed from the sound system.

The BLU Spy whirled around to make his escape before anyone arrived to stop him.

And stopped dead.

Looking at Sniper. Staring straight at him.

Sniper had trained himself to be able to look at people down his scope without really  _ seeing. _

People on the other end of his sights were just targets. Just a problem with a simple solution. A challenge? Maybe. A human? Usually. But an actual person? No.

It was the only way he could do this job without going insane.

But there was no sniper rifle between him and this Spy.

No sight to peer down.

Nothing between them.

No distance.

And so, despite the multiple kills he’d already got on the guy, Sniper found himself truly  _ seeing  _ the Spy for the first time.

Handsome. That was Sniper’s first, unbidden thought. Not in the strong, muscular way that had made him feel jealous when he was younger.

No, more in the way he’d always rather—

Sniper cut that thought short.

Slim man. Too skinny really, though the tailored suit was all the sharper for it.

Young. At least, younger than the last one. Sniper had never been any good at gauging age accurately though.

Blue eyes. Bright blue eyes.

An ugly little scar under one, like a pockmark. A cut through the opposite eyebrow, interrupting it part way across.

Wide-eyed.

Still.

Staring straight back at Sniper.

A gun in his hand.

Sniper threw himself at the new BLU Spy, sweeping his kukri up and across, aiming for the gun.

The Spy stumbled back, thighs connecting with the desk behind him. The briefcase in his left hand clunked against it sharply. He snatched his right hand up just in time. Sniper scowled as his kukri became wedged in the wood. Panic fluttered through his chest as he yanked on it once, twice, three times before it came free. He swung it up again, slashing at the Spy, who’d managed a couple of steps away to the side, and to bring his pistol up to chest height.

The shot went wide. The pistol flew out of the Spy’s hand, landing on the floor nearby. Weaponless, he threw the briefcase up to block Sniper’s kukri. The two met with a shriek of metal on metal that made Sniper flinch and left a sizable dent in the solid briefcase.

Sniper saw the Spy wince, either at the sound or at the pain as the blow echoed up his arm. Then the Spy retaliated, smacking the heavy case up under Sniper’s jaw. 

His teeth clacked together hard enough to chip one, pain radiating through his face. He stumbled to the side as his vision went fuzzy for a split second. By the time the world came back into focus, the Spy had turned towards his gun.

Sniper tackled him to the ground, keeping his kukri out of the way to stop him from trapping it between them. Both it and and Spy’s skull cracked against the concrete floor. The force of the fall knocked the kukri from Sniper’s grasp but there was no time to grab for it as the Spy let go of the intelligence and started trying to wriggle free from under him, arm outstretched towards the pistol, only a meter away.

‘Oh no you don’t! Sniper growled. He grabbed hold of the Spy’s other arm and wrenched it up behind his back. The Spy squirmed under him, trying to relieve the pressure. Then a moment later, he’d wriggled his arm free. Sniper slammed his forearm into the Spy’s shoulders, trying to force him to be still. The Spy kicked his legs, tipped his hip, and twisted free from underneath Sniper again. His glove hand slapped down on the floor, now half a metre or so away from the pistol.

Snarling and swearing, Sniper continued to wrestle with him. It was clear Sniper was the stronger of the two and had the upper hand. However, the Spy was relentless, pressing on towards the gun no matter how many elbows he received to the head or how close Sniper came to breaking his fingers at one point. He was also as slippery as an eel. Sniper recognised some of the tactics RED Spy had taught him to escape a hold, but he had no idea how to counter them.

Sniper tried using his long reach, slamming an elbow down into the Spy’s back, trying to reach over him to the pistol. The Spy snatched hold of his wrist and despite the awkward position, he twisted it around until Sniper thought it might break, forcing him to roll free of the Spy.

He wasn’t going to get to the pistol in time.

He wasn’t going to win.

Sniper flung himself away from the Spy, knees cracking against the ground. He grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach.

He staggered to his feet as the Spy fumbled for the pistol.

The Spy snatched it up. He rolled up into a sitting position, gun in hand and twisted around to face Sniper.

Sniper swung the intelligence into the side of the Spy’s head, putting the whole of his body into the swing.

There was a sickening crack.

Sniper’s momentum carried him around at a ninety degree angle from the hit before he stopped. His arms shook, the intelligence feeling like it weighed ten kilograms. He stood up straight, chest heaving, and looked back at the BLU Spy.

He’d collapsed back down under the blow, head turned away from Sniper. The gun lay another couple of meters away, flung from his hand.

Sniper stood there a moment, staring at the Spy, panting, heart-racing. With his face turned away, it would be so easy to mistake the new Spy for the old one.

There was no blood.

His head didn’t even look like it was at an unnatural angle.

But there was no movement.

No sound.

Nothing.

Sniper approached him warily.

Nothing.

Sniper jabbed the Spy in the side with the tip of his shoe.

Nothing.

Sniper stared down at the body on the floor as triumph and elation slowly swelled up in his chest.

He threw back his head and laughed, a short, sharp bark of a sound.

He’d won. He’d done it. He’d beaten the BLU Spy!

 

BLU Spy stared at the wall opposite him in respawn, eyes glazed. He’d wanted to prove himself. Wanted to show his team that he could be useful without engaging the enemy Sniper.

He’d managed to sap the sentry this time. Managed to kill the Engineer too. Managed to get his hands on the briefcase too. Then… Then…

Another mercenary came through respawn. Spy registered it was the irate Medic a moment too late to cloak and escape.

‘Why are you still here? Why haven’t you been targeting the Sniper?’ he spat. ‘If you don’t start getting kills on him, I will strap you down and operate on you without anesthetic!’

Spy nodded, suspecting that wasn’t an empty threat. 

He would have to fight the RED Sniper again.

He knew that.

He’d probably lose again.

He knew that.

But that wasn’t the issue here. That wasn’t the reason his stomach flipped over sickeningly at the thought of facing a man in that uniform again.

 

_ In hindsight, the Spy was ashamed of not noticing it sooner. His first few weeks at Badwater had been dedicated to its steep learning curve and adapting to having to die over and over. He paid close attention to everyone, the enemy especially. Yet, he still missed it. _

_ The Spy put the lack of deaths by headshot down to his own skill, desperately grasping for something he was competent at in this strange new battleground. _

_ Then the enemy Sniper changed weapons. He took up a rifle with a red laser sight on it. _

_ Then the Spy noticed. _

_ Then he realised how often the Sniper had him in his sights without shooting. _

_ He would glimpse it out of the corner of his eye and duck out of the way. _

_ It would travel slowly over his body as he lay dying from one wound or another. _

_ He would spot it following him from one hiding place to the next. _

_ And yet he never died at the RED Sniper’s hands. _

_ The Spy used it to his advantage, pushing forward into the enemy defences when he shouldn’t have been able to get away with it. _

_ He did wonder, from time to time, why the RED Sniper let him get away with so much. _

_ But the Spy didn’t give it enough thought. _

_ He didn’t realise the danger he was in. _


	4. I Thread the Needle Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, have a new chapter!
> 
> I'd hoped to have this up sooner but this last month has been pretty manic!
> 
> (Bonus points to anyone who knows where the chapter title came from.)

 

Strangely, it was easier for the BLU Spy after that. If he'd had the choice, he would have avoided the RED Sniper forever, but chance had forced them together.

It has gone badly. Terribly in fact. It had certainly done nothing to reduce the anxiety that uniform induced in him. However, it reminded him this RED Sniper was not the same man as the last.

This one was younger. He had sideburns but no facial hair. Aviators. A different rifle. A different hat. They both had facial scars though. That was an odd coincidence the Spy had noticed. The last Sniper he'd worked with has had a small scar on his face, and the one he worked with now had two.

This RED Sniper's scar was uglier than the last, who'd just had a straight slice across one cheek. This Sniper's scar ran down his face as an ugly, raised thing that stood out starkly, especially when he'd pulled his lips back into a snarl.

BLU Spy had no special love for this new Sniper, but he had no reason to fear him like the last. As much as it twisted at his stomach and made his hands shake, he could face this new threat.

Especially when the RED Sniper's back was turned.

 

The first time, he found the RED Sniper lying on his stomach, rifle carefully aimed through a gap in the building's wall. He never saw it coming.

The second time, the Sniper was already wounded, arm clutched to his chest. BLU Spy slipped out of his hiding place near the large health pack he'd been watching, and slipped a knife into the RED's spine.

The third time came a day later and it was a close thing. The Sniper heard him coming and started to turn. That had been a messy kill, one the Spy wasn't proud of it. It had taken a while for the shaking to stop after that, and even longer for him to try again.

Another day later he did, but too much rode on it this time. His team were too desperate for him to remove the Sniper so they could capture the final briefcase. He rushed into the job. Rushed into the room. Right into the enemy Sniper.

He felt the cut of the Sniper's kukri for the first time. At least it was over quickly.

The Spy picked himself up out of respawn and headed back out before anyone in his team could try and punish him more than he was punishing himself for his failure.

No one seemed pleased with his progress so far, but the new Spy the least of all.

 

On the Saturday afternoon, two weeks after the new BLU Spy arrived, RED Spy sat down on the edge of a bed in the medical wing. He shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoned his waistcoat and rolled up his shirt sleeve as high as it would go, displaying the rarely-seen tattoos on his right arm.

'Here,' he said, tapping an empty patch of skin on his upper arm. Sniper pulled up a stool, his equipment neatly laid out on the table beside them. He pulled Spy's arm towards him and ran a thumb over the area. Smooth.

'Already shaved,' Spy said. Sniper nodded and wiped one of the antiseptic wipes Medic had supplied across the area while he studied his canvas. His sketchbook lay open on the bed, two pages covered in various possibilities for the stag's head tattoo Spy wanted. The one he'd gone for should fit into the space between the other tattoos, but only just.

'I'll have to angle it just slightly to get both antlers in symmetrically,' Sniper said, touching Spy's arm in the place to top prongs would go.

'That's perfectly fine,' Spy said.

This tattoo had been a long time coming, but when Spy had approached Sniper earlier in the week, Sniper had readily agreed. He'd been wanting to talk to Spy alone for a while now, but had struggled with himself over it. He so desperately wanted to avoid any mentions of what he'd almost done before the last BLU Spy left. It was something Sniper doubted he'd ever be able to talk about, but there were other things he desperately wanted to share. All the same, Sniper struggled to find the words.

Even when silence fell between them but for the buzz of the tattoo gun, Sniper stayed quiet, snatches of phrases resting on the back of his tongue briefly, before fluttering away to join the butterflies in his stomach.

Spy remained stoic and quiet himself, in sharp contrast to the constant chatter and curses of pain from the last person Sniper had given a tattoo, Scout.

The silence spread between them, one that would have been comfortable if only Sniper had had nothing to stay.

Spy seemed happy to let it stretch on though, or perhaps he knew there was something on Sniper's mind and was allowing him to come forward with it on his own.

It was fifteen or so minutes before Sniper finally gathered the confidence to say: 'Before the Spy – the last BLU Spy, changed bases, he left me something.'

Spy turned his head just slightly, not looking Sniper directly in the eye, but showing he was paying attention.

'He left me some information.' Sniper's hand stilled. It was shaking slightly. 'I wouldn't usually trust anything that bastard has to say, or anything he gives me, but it filled some gaps in. Gaps I hadn't even realised were there.'

Spy remained silent, allowing Sniper to explain in his own time.

'You know that information you got on me, the stuff you shared with the BLU Spy?' There was a slight bite to the words, that of a past transgression that was hard to forgive or forget.

Spy nodded, jaw tight. He deserved that tone. Deserved worse, perhaps.

Sniper shifted slightly, looking away. He couldn't bring himself to switch the tattoo gun off though. Somehow that would lend this more weight, more finality.

'He looked into my past. Went digging for more information. I don't know if he was specifically looking for info on Michelle—my late fiancée, or if he just found it by accident. But...he found out things I didn't know.'

Finally knowing the truth had lifted a great weight off Sniper's shoulders, but the truth had settled over him in its place. He'd wanted to yell from the roof tops that it hadn't been his fault, that none of it had been his fault. He hadn't deserved to go to prison. He hadn't deserved to end up here, on contract zero.

He couldn't do that. But Sniper could tell the one person on his team who must believe, just as he had until so recently, that he'd been the one at fault. That he'd murdered an innocent woman in cold blood.

'She wasn't who I thought she was. We didn't meet by accident. She wasn't really interested in me.' Bitterness bled into his words, bitterness and hurt. 'None of it was real. I was just a mark. A target. I didn't know. I should have known though, I should have guessed, I mean—' _How could anyone like her have ever really loved a guy like me?_

Sniper couldn't say those words out loud.

'I was an idiot.' _I loved her, I loved her so damn much._

'I'd tried moving on from working for people who didn't like loose ends, you see. So as soon... as soon as it became clear I was leaving.' _Because of her. He'd been searching for an out for a while, sure, but he'd only left in the end because of her. The irony of it burned._ 'They gave her her orders.'

The next bit stuck in his throat, impossible to shape into words.

'So she attacked you while you slept,' Spy said softly.

'Yeah,' Sniper agreed, staring down at his hands. 'Don't know if she made a mistake or if she changed her mind or didn't care enough to make sure it was a clean cut...' He trailed away, tracing the scar across his throat with his free hand.

'But she failed her mission. And I woke up. And...' Again, the words abandoned him, even though he'd gone over the story in his head again and again and again from every angle.

'You reacted in self defence.'

'Yeah,' Sniper said, his voice croaky. He finally turned the tattoo gun off.

Spy turned to face him fully. Sniper didn't look up from the tattoo gun.

'Would the old BLU Spy have gained anything from lying about this?'

Sniper hesitated, an unexpected flicker of anger flickering through him.

'Why? Do you think it's more likely I killed my fiancée in cold blood than the old BLU Spy told the truth for once?'

'No,' Spy said evenly. 'While I'm suspicious of any information the old BLU Spy passed on, you have never struck me as someone who would be guilty of a crime of passion, nor do I think you would intentionally harm a partner.'

_So what had Spy thought had happened before now?_ Sniper wondered. He didn't ask.

'However, I do wonder what he would gain by giving you such information.'

'I know it sounds, well, unlikely, but I think it might have been an apology, kinda.'

An apology for using the one thing against him that could drive him to trying to kill himself.

'Possibly,' Spy said, in a tone of voice that Sniper couldn't read. 'How about I look into it for you? Find out for sure if this information is one hundred percent accurate.'

'That...that would help. A lot,' Sniper admitted, glad he hadn't had to ask for that himself.

'Consider it done,' Spy said firmly. 'If he managed to find that information, I will be able to as well.'

Sniper let out a quiet sigh of relief. He'd wanted to talk to Spy about this ever since that night. He'd wanted to share the revelation of his innocence, and what better person to tell than the only other one who knew the original version of events that had haunted Sniper for years?

'Thanks,' Sniper said, turning the tattoo gun back on and returning to his work.

Spy turned away with a grunt as the needle bit into him again.

For a while, a more relaxed silence fell between them until Spy asked, 'So what do you think of the new BLU?'

Sniper huffed in amusement. 'Well, after dealing with the last BLU Spy, this one's pretty pathetic in comparison. I think he's only got me, what, four, maybe five times so far? I've killed him more times than that in one day! I've lost track of how often I've moved into a new position, only to find him hiding behind something, thinking nobody could see him. And I've beaten him in hand-to-hand combat, even when he had a gun!' Sniper broke off with a laugh, and added, 'His face when I caught him trying to get the intelligence! Has he managed to get it even once yet? Even I've got it a couple of times this week!' So yeah, I can't say I think much of him so far!'

'I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss him,' Spy said.

Sniper's face fell. 'Not dismissing him,' he said, as he wiped excess ink from the most recent part of the tattoo. 'Just saying it like it is.'

Spy stayed thoughtfully silent for a minute before saying, 'He's impressively quiet.'

'Yeah? Hadn't noticed.'

'Exactly.'

'Hmmpth.'

'He's managed to sneak up on me a few times without me realising.'

'And that's impressive is it?'

'Oh yes,' Spy said. 'Have you ever even heard a word from him?'

'Probably. I mean, I've got to have... maybe?' Sniper brow furrowed as he thought about it.

'I haven't. I'd been hoping for an accent to give away where he comes from because my initial search into his identity has pulled up nothing. Nothing at all. I haven't even been able to pull my usual strings to get hold of the info RED or BLU have on him.'

_Like he must have done when he made that deal with the last Spy,_ Sniper thought.

'It's as though he doesn't even exist... I'll keep digging though,' Spy said, before sighing and changing the subject.

'You're right that he's still getting used to this location, but all of us had to at some point. I mean, you didn't know all the best sniping spots straight away, did you?'

'Course not,' Sniper admitted. 'Still seen him do stupid stuff though. Watched him completely fuck up an easy backstab on Medic yesterday by dropping his knife!'

'Yes. I've seen...some odd behaviour.'

Another short amount of time passed in silence before Spy continued. 'You know, I think there might be something wrong with him.'

'Yeah?' Sniper said with a snort. Something wrong with this guy, in comparison to the last?

'Hmm, yes. Can't say for sure what it is exactly what it might be, not yet, but his behaviour is...odd.'

'Yeah?' Sniper repeated, feeling a little more curious now.

'Yes. Can't quite put my finger on it though. He makes odd, clumsy little mistakes like you've seen, but he clearly experienced in self defence and some kind of martial art from the way he fights. And the way he moves...like a dancer, almost.'

'Like a dancer?' Sniper scoffed, the image of a BLU Spy twirling past in a fluffy pink tutu popping into his head.

'Yes,' Spy said with a nod, seemingly too wrapped up in his puzzling to notice Sniper's tone of voice. 'Seen some good use of planning and strategy too. It just seems to fall apart sometimes for some reason... And his hands twitch.' Spy held up his own hands, shaking them slightly, experimentally, until they were moving how he wanted. 'Like this.'

'Haven't really looked at his hands,' Sniper admitted.

'You should! They tell you a lot about a man.'

'Like his glove size?' Sniper hazarded.

'Exactly!'

They joked a little from there, talking about Demo's latest prank. It had involved hiding a dead fish in Medic's ceiling, driving Medic slowly mad over the last few days due to all the odd things he had stored away in his lab that could _possibly_ start to smell, but shouldn't have smelt anything like rotting fish. The source had only been discovered when rats got into the ceiling and Medic went up there to explore. The culprit was still unknown to all. All but Sniper and Spy that was, who had both noticed how Demo had pushed the fish around his plate last time Medic served up one of his dreaded healthy meals. They both agreed Medic probably brought it upon himself and promised not to tell anyone.

It wasn't long until Sniper finished their first session, allowing Spy to see the solid black outline of the stag's head.

'Sorry about how long it took,' Sniper said, sure a proper tattoo artist could have done the work in half the time.

Spy waved him away and said, 'I didn't mind at all, we had plenty to talk about.'

Sniper smiled as he gave the tattoo one last clean and covered it up.

'All good to go,' Sniper said.

'Thank you,' Spy replied sincerely. He turned to leave the room but paused at the door.

'Sniper,' he said.

'Yeah?' Sniper asked, looking up from the tattoo gun he was trying to remember how to dissemble.

'Promise me something when you're out there.'

'Yeah?'

'Promise me that you'll never forget this Spy is not the last. Promise me you won't take out your feelings for one on the other. They may wear the same uniform, but they're not the same man.'

'Of course!' Sniper snapped, his good mood ruined.

He wanted to argue, but Spy left with a final nod, leaving Sniper to clean up and stew in his own thoughts.

Of course he didn't think they were the same man! What kind of idiot did Spy take him for? Why the hell did he have to go and say that for?

Deep deep down, Sniper knew he was only this angry because Spy had seen right through him, clearer than he'd seen himself. He allowed his anger to bubble up to the front, because if he didn't, it would leave only guilt in its wake.

 

_Things deteriorated from there. The BLU Spy wished he could blame it on the odd behaviour of the enemy Sniper, but it was all his fault. Or at least, it felt that way when his team trekked out of respawn the next Friday, having lost every single match that week. Apparently it had been months since that last happened._

_Months since such failure._

_And who could have been the main cause of it but one person?_

_Only the Soldier and Heavy outwardly blamed the BLU Spy, but he felt the rest of the team's disappointment and disapproval weighing down on him from all sides._

_Even if no one had blamed him, the Spy would have blamed himself._

_He spiralled. Down down down._

_He knew the signs, knew the patterns. Knew how much harder it would be to drag himself out of bed, how much longer it would take to fall asleep at night, lying awake with his past threatening to crush him to death._

_But he got up each morning all the same._

_He continued on as normal._

_Set himself goals, tiny goals to achieve. Things even he could do._

_The next one was to kill that RED Sniper._

 


	5. A Silent Plea

No matter how hard he tried, Sniper couldn’t shake Spy’s parting comment.

Every time he spotted the new BLU at the other end of the scope. Every time he shot him. Every time he died to his knife.

It wasn’t fair. His team’s Spy didn’t understand. He _needed_ those victories. He needed those triumphs. They were the only way to crush the twisted feelings the last BLU Spy had left him with. They were the only way to win.

But now it was soured. And worse, it was soured because Spy was _right._

Now Sniper just felt more frustrated than ever. Every death was a defeat but every kill on the new BLU Spy was just...confusing.

Sniper found himself watching the guy through his scope for a few moments before a kill. Sometimes it lost him the shot, which only made him more frustrated.

He was curious now. Who was this man? Who could be a mystery, even to the RED Spy with his years of training?

Watching the new Spy was interesting, Sniper had to admit. It made him feel like a bit of a creep, like the stalker the last Spy had been, so Sniper tried to keep it to a minimum. But all the same, everything else RED Spy had told him stayed in the forefront of his mind. Over the next few days, Sniper came to see what he had meant. This new Spy wasn’t stupid. He used the other members of his team as cover; he popped up in one place to cause a distraction, then appear in a completely different place while Sniper’s team-mates were busy looking for him in the last. In hand-to-hand combat, he was lythe and lethal, able to dodge and swerve and manipulate his opponents. He seemed to favour fighting with kicks and punches, and when that failed, elbows and knees, rather than using his knife.

But there really was _something_ odd about him. That’s what kept Sniper watching. There was something slightly strange about the way he carried himself, about the way he moved. Outside of combat, he seemed stiff, with a slight limp that only came out when he took long strides or was in a hurry. He often moved around empty handed, hands curled into fists like he was looking for a brawl. Things made a little more sense after Sniper spotted him pause out of sight (or so he must have believed) of the RED base to force his right fist into an open palm with his left hand, carefully flexing his fingers as though to test for something, before pulling out his pistol.

Sniper had to shoot him then. He had no other choice, not when this had been an enemy about to try and sneak into their base. The Spy’s behaviour niggled at the back of his mind, bringing to his thoughts a distant childhood memory. His Father’s hands used to cramp up like that from time to time when he spent too long using the same tool on the farm. If his mother was around, she would take his calloused hands gently in hers and help him straighten his fingers out. It was something so at odds with his Father’s belligerently independent personality that it had stuck with Sniper all these years, despite being such a small thing.

Sniper looked down at his hands the next time they were free, thinking about cramping and shaking fingers. Drugs maybe? Or withdrawal? Or something else…

Then there was the other thing the RED Spy had pointed out: the silence. Apart from the times the Spy’s hands shook enough for him to fumble and drop his weapons, he was silent. Sniper put it down to being too far away from the action to hear him most of the time, but the other REDs had started to complain about it, not so amused by the new Spy now that he’d begun to settle in. They all said he wasn’t as bad as the last Spy though.

Then there were the times the Spy backstabbed him. They remained fairly rare compared to what he was used to, only usually occurring when Sniper was doing especially well. Even with that cue though, he never heard the Spy coming.

Not until he’d been listening out for almost two full weeks, growing ever more frustrated with both the Spy and himself.

Sniper had pushed further forward than usual, played things more aggressively so he could get to a particular sniping spot. A lucky headshot on the enemy Sniper as he was setting up meant that he had free reign of the area and an unparalleled view of both bases. From his lofty roost, Sniper worked harder than ever to take out the enemy team, daring the BLU Spy to come after him.

After almost an hour, he finally heard it: the slightest creak of a floorboard. Sniper forced himself stay relaxed. Even when he’d been listening out for it, it was hard not to flinch in fear. The old Spy had killed him here a few times, sometimes stepping on that particular floorboard on purpose just to make things more interesting.

This new Spy didn’t know to step over it though.

He wasn’t the same man.

Sniper exhaled and took the shot he’d been lining up. Across the bridge, the BLU Sniper’s head disappeared in a red cloud for the second time that day. The crack of the shot echoed around the room, giving the impression Sniper hadn't heard anything and giving the Spy cover to move off the floorboard. And towards Sniper’s unprotected back.

Sniper leapt off the crate he’d been sitting on and whipped the butt of his rifle behind him was he swung around. It hit something, blue static skittering in its wake, showing Sniper that he’d struck the Spy in the ribs. There was no cry of pain, no swearing, not even an ‘oof!’ just a sharp intake of breath and a light sound of stumbling feet.

The Spy flickered into view, knife drawn, blue eyes narrowed.

Sniper had spent some time trying to work out what witty remark to make if they ended up face to face again. Something that would make him look smart or intimidating or goad the Spy into speaking so he could try and work out his accent (not that Sniper had ever been very good at identifying them.)

Instead, the familiar fear and loathing hit him. The sight of that blue suit made screeching alarm bells ring no matter how much Sniper reminded himself that this was not the same man wearing it.

He was still an enemy though.

And this was still a fight to the death.

Never taking his eyes off the Spy, Sniper propped his rifle against the crate behind him and drew his kukri. The rifle was out of bullets and made for a clumsy bludgeoning weapon up close, though with respawn to mend it, he would use it if needs be.

The Spy lunged forward without warning. Sniper lashed out with his kukri but the Spy dodged inside his defences, knife punching forward. Sniper flinched back, legs hitting the crate. He stumbled, panic gripping him as he lost balance. The Spy grabbed hold of his wrist as he fell and twisted hard. Sniper’s kukri clattered to the ground as his spine and the back of his head whacked into the edge of the window. Sniper grimaced in pain as his vision blurred. By the time it had cleared he looked up to find the Spy standing over him, his own kukri pointed right at him.

Sniper held his breath, body tense, expecting to die any second.

The Spy didn’t move, just stared down at him with those piercing blue eyes and an expression Sniper couldn’t read.

‘That’s really not much of a stabbing weapon,’ Sniper blurted out, brain catching up with his words a moment too late to stop him from saying something so stupid. True, kukris were not stabbing weapons. They were slashing weapons, which did nothing to improve the situation.

The Spy blinked, his eye gaining a focus Sniper hadn’t even noticed was missing. He glanced down at the heavy knife in his hands, angling the blade to the side, as though looking at it properly for the first time.

Sniper took his chance. He flung himself sideways off the crate, legs catching on his rifle as he went. It wasn’t an elegant escape, Sniper almost stumbling over his own feet as he tried to put room between him and the Spy.

The Spy’s eyes flickered from him to his rifle, which Sniper had knocked over in the same direction as he’d moved. One more weapon. One more and the Spy would have them all.

Sniper tensed. The Spy took that as his signal and moved to snatch up the gun.

Instead, Sniper kicked out, catching the Spy in the chest with his heavy boot. It was enough to upset the Spy’s momentum and send him tumbling onto his side.

Sniper grabbed his rifle off the ground and swung it around to face the Spy. The Spy froze where he lay for a moment, before slowly letting go of the kukri, rolling over onto his back and propping himself up on his elbows.

‘Stay down!’ Sniper snapped.

The Spy did as he was told, staring back up at Sniper, chin raised in defiance, eyes fierce.

Sniper could see his thin chest rising and falling in bursts though, saw his clenched jaw, the bob of his adam's apple underneath his mask. He might never have been good at reading people, but he’d had an eye for animal behaviour. In this Spy, he saw a skittish animal, cornered, baring its fangs to hide its fear. And he knew to never underestimate a cornered animal.

The Spy didn’t know this threat was as empty as his rifle though.

The looked at each other for a long moment. It was too much for Sniper, the Spy’s gaze was too intense. He concentrated on the ugly little pockmark on the edge of the Spy’s left eye socket instead, before realising he needed to get his kukri back before the Spy found an opportunity to try and use it against him again. He circled around the Spy, watching him intently. The Spy stayed completely still, and didn’t look around even when the quiet scrape of metal on wood signaled Sniper picking his kukri up. Sniper put it back in his sheath an stepped back in front of the Spy.

Why hadn’t he said anything? Anything at all? He hadn’t cursed or threatened. Hadn’t joked or insulted Sniper. And even now, with apparent death hovering over his head, he remained silent.

Sniper’s eyes narrowed, frustration bubbling to the surface.

He should just kill this man with his kukri, or load a bullet into his rifle before the Spy had chance to react. The Spy was a BLU. An enemy. Sniper couldn’t do though, not with the BLU on the floor, helpless.

It would have been so much easier if the Spy had hurt him, made him angry, forced his hand. Or if this had been the old BLU Spy. Then Sniper could have enjoyed this victory.

Sniper still avoided killing during humiliation rounds, but at least then he could purposefully avoid looking for enemies, or else, pretend he hadn’t seen them. Here there was no avoiding. No pretending. The enemy was completely at his mercy.

‘Say please,’ he said finally, ‘and I’ll let you go.’

The Spy’s eyes narrowed too. He took a deep breath. And said nothing.

‘You can walk away from here alive, unharmed. All you have to do is say please.’

It wasn’t a promise Sniper should make. What would his teammates think if they found out he’d let an enemy go?

The Spy cast his gaze down and to the side, head tilted away. He sighed audibly, the nearest to speaking Sniper had heard from him yet.

When he shifted his weight off one hand, Sniper increased his grip on his rifle and hissed, ‘Oi!’

The Spy looked back at him, opening the palm of his free hand as he raised it to show there was nothing hidden there. Slowly, he reversed his hand and placed his palm flat against his chest. Sniper watched in confusion as he moved his hand in a single circle in a clockwise motion.

‘What?’ Sniper said.

The Spy looked up at him again, locking eyes with him until Sniper had to glance away. The Spy repeated the motion three more times, and mouthed the word ‘Please.’

Sniper had enough experience lipreading (a skill he’d gradually developed from watching people down his scope for so many years) to recognise the word.

Sniper lowered his rifle slightly as he tried to work out if this counted. In the end he cut to the chase and simply asked: ‘What mate, you can’t talk or something?’

The Spy nodded slowly, hand still pressed to his heart.

Sniper really wasn’t sure what to make of that. He sighed, irritated. He felt like the Spy had cheated, and that he could well be lying, but why make such an odd claim if it wasn’t true?

‘Just get out of here,’ he said, gesturing with his rifle.

The Spy obeyed, carefully rising to his feet, both hands out in front of him to show he wasn’t about to start anything. His right hand was flat, his left curled loosely.

‘Go on,’ Sniper said more forcefully, wanting the Spy out of his sight. The Spy gave him and his rifle one more look before turning and walking briskly out of the room, back straight and head raised, as though he hadn’t been at Sniper’s mercy just a moment ago.

Sniper glowered at the door long after the Spy’s quiet footsteps had faded away. He loaded his rifle by touch, just in case the BLU came back.

He felt sick, guilt and uncertainty and guilt squirming in his stomach.

_Not the same Spy._

_Still an enemy._

_Not the same man._

_Mercy._

_Still the_ enemy _._

 

What would the RED Spy think of his actions?

And if that hadn’t been a lie, why couldn’t the BLU Spy speak?

 

 

_The attack went wrong, pathetically wrong. He’d waited until the Sniper seemed distracted, until his victory seemed assured. He’d needed this kill. He’d needed to do better. To prove his worth to his teammates, and to himself._

_It was as though the Sniper knew he was there from the start. The Spy had no idea what gave him away but just as he was about to sink his blade into the Sniper’s back, the Sniper twisted around and grabbed his wrist, blade catching on his black leather glove. The Spy didn’t know if it caught on skin too. All he knew was that one minute, he had the the upper hand and surprise on his side, the next, he’d been caught._

_He tried to pull free of the Sniper’s grip, a move he’d pulled off successfully countless times. This time failed though as his hand cramped in the Sniper’s grip._

‘ _Hey, hey there Spook,’ the Sniper said, voice soothing, like he was talking to a scared horse._

_His accent was unusual. Spy couldn’t place it. And he couldn’t pull free either, not without going on the attack for and successfully disrupting the Sniper’s balance._

‘ _Been watching you out there, Spook.’_

_The Spy’s racing thoughts slammed to a halt like a running dog reaching the end of a long lead._

‘ _You’re new, aren’t you?’_

_Stained teeth, a chip out the left top canine._

‘ _To this whole game I mean, not just to your team.’_

_South African. That was his accent._

‘ _You’re trying your best out there.’_

_He had a lined face. Laughter or scowl lines?_

‘ _You’re doing great, don’t worry.’_

_The Sniper let him go._

_The Spy knew he should have launched his attack now, but the knife in his hand didn’t feel like a real weapon. Like a real defence._

_The Sniper smiled and gave him an approving nod._

‘ _I’ll see you out there then Spook.’_

_The BLU Spy fled._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently shared this Spy's playlist on my Tumblr. If you're interested, the link is [here.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtiIU8kGA62R-D3WKvaTNQymPAsyv_cLl)
> 
> I actually finished this playlist back in 2016, so that shows just how long I've been waiting for it to finally become relevant.  
> I think this might be my favourite of the playlists so far as both the shifting mood throughout the playlist and the individual songs work perfectly for this guy. Please do check it out if you have time! And stop by and leave a comment if you're enjoying the fic so far! We're actually about halfway through this firct arc already o.o


	6. Professional Courtesy

The BLU Spy went back to barely attacking Sniper after that. Sniper wasn’t sure if he’d somehow managed to scare the guy away, if it was some kind of thank you, or if the situation had just embarrassed the Spy enough for him to want to avoid a repeat.

Whatever it was, it had no effect on the times he did go in for the kill. His backstabs were as silent and unexpected as ever.

It was always a jolting and unpleasant experience to suddenly come to in respawn with no warning. Sniper almost fell over more than once thanks to going from sitting down or lying on his front, to standing up in respawn in what felt to him like a split-second.

Sniper resented the Spy for that, but had to reluctantly remind himself that it didn’t happen as often as it probably should have done, and at least this wasn’t the last Spy. It also made him realise just how quiet this new Spy was in comparison, even ignoring the fact he was apparently mute.

It was even harder now to stop himself from tracking the Spy across the battleground, trying to work out this balaclava’d puzzle. Tracking him was especially difficult now anyway, as the Spy had grown gradually more accustomed to this base, what distances he could cross under his cloak, and which places he could hide.

Sniper hoped things would settle back down to normal now. Well, “normal” was stretching it. Life here was, by its very nature, _abnormal_.

Sniper did not get his wish.

 

Thursday night two weeks after his encounter with the Sniper, the Spy found himself creeping after the RED Heavy and Medic combo. They worked extremely well together, and with most of the BLU team on the defensive surrounding their Intelligence, it was up to him to stop the RED’s reinforcements.

He glanced up at the buildings behind him as he slipped across the bridge back towards his base. No sign of the RED Sniper.

The RED Sniper who’d let him go, just like the other RED Sniper. Just like him.

But they were not the same man, Spy reminded himself.

But all the same…

He knew why the South African Sniper had let him go.

But why had this one?

It was aggravating, not knowing. The Spy put it down to himself just being that pathetic and weak-looking that even the enemy took pity on him.

He hated the thought. Not as much as he would have done once though, back when he’d been a proud man. A proud man with much to be proud about.

But now…

Now he was caught up in his own thoughts when he should have been concentrating on the job at hand.

 

It had been raining half the day. It shouldn’t have been a problem, as matches started late and ran into the night here at this strange base. However, in the dark, it wasn’t easy to see puddles. Spy silently cursed as his foot splashed straight into a puddle both the Medic and Heavy had managed to avoid. It couldn’t have come at a worse time. The Medic flinched and turned around to find the Spy right behind him. The Spy panicked, instincts kicking in. He punched the Medic hard in stomach, knocking the air out of him. As the Medic doubled up with a gasp, the Spy thrust his knife into his throat. He stepped swiftly to the side as the Medic collapsed onto his front, clawing at the knife.

A fist smashed into the Spy’s chest, slamming him against the nearest wall. His head cracked against concrete and he gasped, winded. The Heavy kept him pinned there and glared down at him, face thrown into heavy shadow by the poor lighting above.

‘That was big mistake, little snake,’ the Heavy said, voice flat. It was the kind of tone that spoke of strong emotions writhing just beneath the surface.

The Spy’s knife was still in the Medic’s throat.

But his pistol…

‘No!’ the Heavy barked, grabbing hold of the Spy’s wrist.

The Spy tried to twist with the movement but relieve the pressure. The Heavy’s grip was too tight.

Panic set in as his arm reached its limit.

Then went beyond.

The Spy mouthed a silent “o” of pain, eyes wide, as his wrist snapped.

He tried to writhe free, instincts shouting at him to get away from the danger, common sense warning him to stay still so not to cause any damage, but past experience reminding him of what happened when you remained within touching distance of those who want to hurt you.

‘You hurt doctor,’ the Heavy said, voice cold. ‘Now you hurt.’

From behind him came a wet cough.

‘Doctor?’

The Heavy turned, allowing the Spy to see the Medic on the ground slowly pull himself up into a sitting position as he pulled the knife free of his throat. Medigun fumes surrounded him.

That should have been a fatal wound.

The medigun fumes.

Of course.

The Medic rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his neck.

The Spy took what might be his only chance and tried to twist free of the Heavy’s grip. The Heavy snapped his attention back around and slammed the Spy into the wall again.

Pain from the jostling of his broken wrist distorted the Spy’s vision.

The smell of eucalyptus filled the air and his legs almost gave way beneath him.

_No no no no._

The Medic stepped up next to the Heavy and the Heavy found himself unexpectedly having to support the Spy’s weight. What little there was of it.

‘That wasn’t a very clever move on your part,’ the Medic said. He had a slightly rasping sound to his voice. He coughed to clear it and added, ‘you really are quite the amateur compared to your predecessor.’

If the Spy had been in a better frame of mind, he would have been offended. The previous Spy looked as though he’d been the older of the two, but there was no way he was the more experienced of the two.

Instead he just glared at the Medic through the pain. It would be over soon. They’d kill him. He would respawn, away from the pain and away from the scent of eucalyptus. Everything would be okay. He just needed to die first.

The Heavy wrapped his large hand around the Spy’s jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks.

‘Think I could crush head like bird’s egg?’ he asked his Medic, experimenting with a little extra pressure.

‘If I ubercharged you, definitely,’ the Medic said with relish.

An unsettling, familiar feeling gradually spread through the Spy. He let it happen, let himself go. The pain was still there. The pressure on the jaw. The men before him. But they were far away, and becoming further. His fingertips were tingling, numb, like there was living static buzzing against them. The fear that had latched onto him so deeply fell away like a bloated tick. He blinked slowly. This vague shape he inhabited, this was his, wasn’t it? A thousand miles away he blinked slowly as a red glow crawled across the Heavy.

 

Sniper turned away before the end. Left his sniping spot. Shook his head, telling himself that REDs kill BLUs and BLUs kill REDs and that was just how it was meant to be.

He didn’t know where he was walking. Away. Away from there. That’s all he needed to do right now. Sniper’s rifle hung heavy in his hands. He could have shot the Spy. Ended it all quickly, neatly.

But cheating Heavy and Medic of their kill would have made them angry. They were his teammates. It was their feelings he needed to respect, even if he didn’t like it.

The Spy had deserved it anyway. It was his fault for attacking Medic and making Heavy angry. He needed to learn the consequences to his actions.

But—

But all the same—

Those masks the spies seemed to be so obsessed with. Those masks they probably thought kept them a mystery…

Sniper had always thought the way they clung so tightly to the skull made them look somehow vulnerable.

The Spy had earned that death with his mistake.

But he hadn’t deserved it.

What he’d seen and what he’d failed to do haunted Sniper for the rest of the match. He hoped he’d never have to make a decision like that one again, because he wasn’t sure what he might do.

Then came the Humiliation round.

 

RED team won for the third time in a row, perking Sniper up considerably, especially when he’d been the one to stop the BLU Scout from stealing their Intelligence briefcase halfway through the match. He headed back towards the teleporters with a spring in his step, refusing to let the incident from earlier bother him.

As he headed into RED’s side of the battleground, he heard the beep of a sentry. It was such a common sound that he barely registered it, his subconscious recognising the pitch as that of a RED sentry, not a BLU.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_…_

_Beep._

Sniper frowned to himself, turning in the direction of the beeping.

He was used to a consistent rhythm to the beeps. There was something off here. What it was, Sniper had no idea. He reminded himself that whatever it was was Engineer’s problem and as long as it wasn’t something that might get Sniper killed, he was happy to leave Engineer’s problems to him.

The rift that Engineer had cracked open between them had far from mended, only made worse by the fact that Sniper had almost done exactly what Engineer had wanted him to. Engineer didn’t know of course, but it was all Sniper could think about when they ended up alone in a room together.

When they did, it was usually brief, with neither of them talking to the other.

Sniper had hoped things might improve now the old BLU Spy was gone and he could finally prove to the rest of the team what an asset he really could be.

However, he’d still found his showers running cold without warning on more than one occasion, and Engineer had told Sniper when he first came to the base that he was entirely  in charge of the showers’ plumbing and maintenance.

Sniper would have turned away and continued on to the base to avoid the chance of an awkward encounter, when he heard Soldier’s half-mad laughter booming from a room further down the corridor.

Soldier made absolutely no sense to Sniper and was far too loud, but Sniper preferred his company over Engineer’s.

Curious now, and thinking he could always just pop his head in to see what was going on and disappear again if it wasn’t any of his business, Sniper made his way towards the room.

When he entered through the space a door had originally been before Demoman blasted it off with sticky bombs, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Engineer, Soldier and Scout, all standing around a sentry gun. Engineer leaning against it, a device Sniper recognised as the sentry remote control Engineer had been working on recently in his hands.

The gun on the sentry had been lowered and set further back than usual. This allowed it to rest right against the back of the head of the slumped BLU Spy on the ground who had been lashed to it with rope.

Sniper stared at the scene, and the BLU Spy looked like he was staring back, but he didn’t react to seeing Sniper there.

One of his eyes was almost swollen shut, fresh bruising ringing it, and his balaclava had been pulled askew, a curl of dark hair escaping one corner. His suit was torn and dishevelled, as though he’d fought with someone in the dirt.

_Beep._

Sniper’s three teammates laughed as the guns on the sentry became to spin.

Sniper winced, glad he was standing off slightly to one side so he wouldn’t get shredded along with the poor Spy.

Just a moment before the bullets would start firing, Engineer pressed the button on his control again and the sentry’s guns gradually slowed back and stilled.

‘You almost got him that time!’ Scout groused.

‘Boy, I know this baby inside out, if I wanted him got, he would be dead by now.’ Then he seemed to speak to the Spy when he said, ‘All you need to do is say the magic word and I’ll let you go back through respawn.’ He kicked the Spy in the leg for good measure, though the Spy barely reacted to it.

Sniper’s lips curled in disgust at Engineer’s smug tone. He was enjoying this...whatever this was far too much.

‘Engie, Engie, I’ve got an idea!’ Soldier said, sounding like a bouncy dog who was about to be given a new chew toy.

He leant over the sentry pressed the Spy’s head back, flush against the barrel.

‘Spin it up now!’ he said. ‘Show this BLU what we do to communists around here!’

Engineer chuckled and addressed the BLU Spy once again as he moved his thumb back over the power button.

‘My baby reaches a rotation speed of ten cycles a second just before it starts firing. Imagine what that might do to you. My guess is it will shred through the mask, then your hair and flesh. Hell, maybe it’ll even go through bone before I fire a single bullet!’

‘Oh shit, that sounds nasty!’ Scout said in delight.

_Beep._

Soldier cackled as the turret began to spin.

The Spy’s eyes widened, fear flickering across his face for the first time. It was as though he hadn’t heard a word Engineer had said warning him of what was about to happen.

The Spy’s expression shocked Sniper back to his senses as anger welled up in his chest and spilled over.

He’s stood idly by one time too many already today. He wasn’t going to do it again.

‘What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?’

Engineer and Scout both jumped guiltily, Engineer fumbling to hit the button to stop the barrel spinning before looking up. Realising it was Sniper, his face twisted into a look of disdain.

‘Oh hello Sniper,’ Soldier said cheerfully, waving at Sniper as he stalked towards them.

‘What. The. Fuck. Is. This?’ Sniper spat, gesturing down to the Spy. The Spy didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed at the loud sound.

Engineer said nothing, leaving Scout to babble, ‘Well, I mean. The Spy— We caught him trying to steal the Intelligence. Engineer got him in the face with his wrench. Then the round ended and, uh.’

‘We taught him who’s boss!’ Soldier said, puffing his chest out.

‘Through torture?’ Sniper asked, glowering at Engineer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scout cringe, but Engineer’s frown only deepened beneath his goggles.

‘So what? He’s a BLU. If he comes after our Intelligence or messes with my machines, he gets what’s coming to him!’

‘These BLU punks need to learn their place!’ Soldier agreed. ‘And their place is with their skull underneath our boots, being crushed to death!’

‘You just can’t do this shit!’ Sniper argued, gesturing broadly towards the sentry.

‘Why not?’ Scout demanded, shifting slightly from foot to foot in his discomfort. ‘This is the kinda shit a BLU would do if they got chance.’

‘Exactly! But we’re not BLUs! We don’t need to sink to their level to win.’

‘Would have thought you’d be the last person to care about what happens to a BLU Spy,’ Engineer said. ‘You gone soft, boy?’

‘No,’ Sniper said, frustrated. This whole situation was wrong, so wrong, but he was struggling to find the words to express why. ‘The Humiliation round will probably end any moment, just let the BLU go—’

‘Let him go?’ Soldier barked. ‘You don’t just let an enemy go!’

‘But you don’t treat an prisoner of war like this either, it’s dishonourable,’ Sniper retorted, using the only language Soldier understood. What he could see of the Soldier’s face seemed to gain a thoughtful look.

Without another word, Engineer drew his pistol.

‘What—’ Sniper managed before Engineer put a bullet through the back of the ever-silent Spy’s skull.

Sniper took a step back, only just managing to avoid the blood splatter. ‘What the hell was that for?’

Engineer shrugged, giving him a mocking smile.

‘Well now, couldn’t hurt your feelings by roughing him a bit more, but couldn’t let him go. Are you telling me you aren’t happy to see a BLU dead? What did you want, to carry him bridal style back to your filthy van and play nurse maid for the poor lil’ BLU. Or did you have other plans for a helpless BLU Spy that you didn’t want us to see?’

‘No,’ Sniper snorted, Engineer’s implications thankfully going right over his head.

He knew though that Engineer had shot the Spy to spite him. Still, it was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

The body thankfully faded a few moments later, signaling the end of the humiliation round.

Engineer leant down to start untying the loose ropes and Soldier offered to stay behind and help Engineer carry his equipment back. It was never easy to work out what was going on in Soldier’s head, but he could usually be relied on to cheerfully help out with heavy-lifting, probably because it was one of the few things in life he’d ever received praise for.

That left Sniper and Scout to walk back towards the teleporters. Sniper set off with a swift pace, clutching his rifle tight, still buzzing with anger.

The sound of rapid footsteps caught his attention and he reluctantly slowed down to let Scout catch up with him.

‘Why do you care?’ Scout said as soon as they were side by side. ‘That was a BLU Spy, Sniper! How can you, more than anyone, be mad about him getting what he had coming to him? I mean, the last one—’

‘Was a different man,’ Sniper growled.

‘I know, I know,’ Scout said, twisting his bat in his hands, brow furrowed in thought. ‘I know. It’s just, that last motherfucker’s gone and there’s so much shit he never paid for.’

Sniper wondered if Scout either knew more about the last BLU Spy stalking him then he thought, or if he meant something else. The RED Spy had said long ago that the BLU liked to play with different targets, after all. How much had Scout gone through at his hands that Sniper knew nothing about?

‘Yeah, there is,’ Sniper said with a sigh. ‘And I felt the same way until just recently.’

He hadn’t really realised how deeply RED Spy’s words had impacted him until now, despite his rejection of them at the time. But here he was, telling the Scout the same thing.

‘He’s still a BLU though! Think of what they did to you that time in town!’

Sniper would honestly rather not think about it, but he understood Scout’s thoughts.

He said again. ‘Yeah, to be honest, if it had been the BLU Medic I probably wouldn’t have said anything. Engineer can do whatever he likes to that bastard. But the new BLU Spy, he wasn’t around then. He’s the enemy, yeah, so he’s definitely worth more to me dead than alive, but the bloke hasn’t done anything to deserve that kind of treatment.’

‘ _Yet_ ,’ Scout said firmly.

‘Yet,’ Sniper agreed. This war could twist a man. He’d seen flashes of it in his own personality. ‘If he ever proves to be as much of a dick as the last Spy, you have my full permission to tie him up to a beam and use him for baseball practice as much as you like.’

Scout snorted. ‘Yeah okay. Don’t you think he’s kind of...weird though?’

‘Weird?’ Sniper echoed. Hadn’t Scout called _him_ weird when he’d first joined RED?

‘Yeah man. Weird. Like, he didn’t say anything the whole time. It was weird. And he just seemed to, like, space-out when shit got real? Then again, Engie did smack him round the head with his wrench, so maybe that did it. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even swear at us or nothing.’

‘He can’t talk, Scout.’

‘Wh...huh. He can’t? That’s weird.’

Sniper shrugged. ‘Yeah, but that’s your answer.’

Scout stayed quiet the rest of the way to the teleporters. When he got there, he turned around and said, ‘Man, that’s gotta make disguising difficult.’

‘Yep,’ Sniper said as red lights flickered at the base of the teleporter, whisking Scout away.

 

_After that, the situation slowly started sinking in. The South African Sniper didn’t keep missing chances to kill him because he was such a good Spy. He killed him so rarely because he didn’t want to._

_So why did he keep stalking Spy with his rifle sight? The Spy spotted the little red dot seemingly everywhere he went. He became more and more paranoid with each match that passed, going out of his way to avoid open spaces even when he knew his cloak would have held long enough to cross them, just in case._

_His kill count slowly started to decline as he spent more and more time trying to hide away from the Sniper._

_If the Sniper’s plan was creep him out enough to impact his performance on the field, it was working._

_But if that wasn’t his plan, what exactly was he up to?_

_As desperate as he was for answers, the Spy had a feeling he didn’t want to know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof-reading and chapter name credit goes to the BF once more!  
> The scene with the sentry gun was inspired by a piece of art by donc-desole on Tumblr that you can find [here](http://donc-desole.tumblr.com/post/55673276095/donc-desole-whoops-heh-i-love-how-i-take)


	7. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since I started this fic, we're back to a chapter that ended up being much longer than intended, so my apologies for the longer wait!

The BLU Spy watched the RED Engineer for half an hour before acting, allowing him time to finish work on all his buildings and to start to feel safe leaving them for short periods at a time.

He was a blood-thirsty man, the BLU Spy noted in a detached manner. That was exploitable.

The events of yesterday clung to him like a bloated tick, trying to drain him of all bravery and commitment.

He would not let it.

He took all his anger and all his humiliation and he ground it down to a fine, razor-sharp weapon.

Things were fuzzy, beyond the emotional impact of it all. He remembered the RED Sniper though. Remembered what he’d done, and it left something twisting and coiling in discomfort in his chest.

The RED Sniper had stood up to his teammates.

Not for him, of course not. He was just an enemy and the Sniper’s wording made it clear that the Engineer’s behaviour simply broke whatever code of honour the Sniper brought to the battlefield.

Not for him, but in spite of him.  ‘Would have thought you’d be the last person to care about what happens to a BLU Spy,’ the Engineer had said.

The Spy knew from hearing him speak that this RED Sniper must be the “Aussie” his team’s Demo had talked about when he first arrived. Something had happened between the Sniper and the previous BLU Spy. He didn’t know what, but it was enough to leave him shaken at the coincidence. Especially when that Spy had warned him about “getting too close” to this Sniper. And this Sniper had not only let him live one time, but had protested how other REDs had treated him yesterday.

What did it all mean?

And why did it have to be him in the middle of all this, when it echoed aspects of the situation he’d fled from so eerily?

The Sniper’s motivations and intentions were too confusing to think about. It was a relief, almost, to have an enemy who was easy to hate for simple, straightforward reasons.

The Engineer liked making people hurt. He liked proving his dominance over another. He liked being in control.

It didn’t take the Spy long to work out how to wrest that control away from him, while also reducing his ability to hurt others.

After allowing the Engineer to grow confident enough to leave his buildings for a few minutes at a time, Spy made sure he as out of sight before he slipped out of his hiding place, sapper gripped in his hand. With his mouth set into a flat, determined frown, he uncloaked and slapped the sapper straight onto the level three sentry. His neck prickled with suppressed memories as he backed up towards his hiding place, gun drawn. He shot the teleporter exit first, then the dispenser, then finally the sentry. The sapper would have done the job by itself; that bullet was for the Spy’s sake, not its.

He’d just settled back into his hiding place when the Engineer appeared, panting as he ran, shotgun drawn.

The Spy listened with smug satisfaction as the Engineer cursed loudly, firing off rounds into all corners of the room, calling for his head.

He watched as the Engineer ran back out of the room, looking around wildly. He didn’t think to look up at the low roof above him, apparently not realising that the two old crates pressed up against it could serve as steps to someone with a lighter build than he. Not that he would have seen anything even if he had looked up though, thanks to the Spy’s Cloak and Dagger.

It took awhile for the Engineer to settle down and start work on his buildings again. As soon as he hurried out to get more metal, the Spy slipped from his hiding place and slapped his sapper back onto the now level two sentry. (The sapper being sadly unique in its ability to reappear back in his pocket after use. He would much rather it had been the butterfly knife or pistol.)

The Spy only just made it on top of the second crate when the Engineer reappeared, looking angrier than ever. Once again he shot around the room, and a little outside too, but he completely missed the Spy.

This time he only built a level one sentry, then ran off to get more metal. It was tempting, painfully tempting, to go after the Intelligence the Spy knew must be in the room beyond the one the Engineer was guarding. He hadn’t seen anyone else go in, and no one had come out to help the Engineer, so with him out of the way, it seemed like a golden opportunity.

One that the Spy refused to take for two reasons.

The first was that if he managed to get the Intelligence, the next briefcase would appear in another, unknown location on the battlefield and the Spy would lose his hiding spot and advantage.

The other was that this was a trap.

He counted two minutes in his head, knowing from experience that his count would be accurate to the second. He slowly rose from his crouched position on the crate, watching and listening intently. No sign of the Engineer.

He carefully pulled himself back onto the roof with barely a sound.

Still no sign of the Engineer. Two and a half minutes had passed. For someone angry and raring for revenge, it would feel like much longer. The Spy didn't have much time.

He drew his pistol and lay down on his belly on the rough wooden roof. After one last check that he would be completely out of sight of anyone on ground level, he decloaked and shot the sentry through a hole in the roof.

'You little shit!' Engineer roared from somewhere close by. The Spy kept himself flattened to the roof as he cloaked again, the Engineer's heavy footfalls signaling his reappearance.

The Engineer fired madly, spreading out his search farther than before, swearing constantly under his breath.

The BLU Spy allowed himself a little smile.

This time, the Engineer stayed in the room for much longer, as the Spy had known he would. The RED Pyro came by as he finished building his sentry back up to level one and stuck around when he went to go fetch more metal.

The Spy watched the Pyro warily, wincing as the heat from the flamethrower reached him. If he'd managed to hide from the Engineer anywhere inside the room, the Pyro's spychecking would have scorched him alive.

The Pyro never thought to investigate the roof though, and ran off again to join in the fighting as soon as Engineer returned, despite the Engineer shouting after them.

The Spy stayed perfectly still despite the splinters digging into his stomach, watching the Engineer as he upgraded his sentry. It brought him a small sense of satisfaction to watch the Engineer glance over his shoulders every few seconds, visibly spooked when a rocket went off not too far away.

He would stay with his sentry this time, the Spy predicted. Regardless of whether he needed to move his gear up, build a dispenser for his team, or provide a crucial escape route with his teleporters, none of those things would matter right now. Contempt was a double-edged sword. The Engineer wouldn't be able to stand the thought of letting the Spy get one over on him, not when his own sense of superiority was on the line.

_ What next? _ The Spy wondered. He was a patient man, willing to wait however long it took to completely destroy the Engineer's productivity, but he was tempted to just risk decloaking and shooting the Engineer, even if it meant the Engineer might choose a new nest.

_ What next? _ More wild shooting? Unlikely. The Engineer might be angry, but he was a cunning man, too. He wouldn't risk using the rest of his ammo now if it meant leaving himself and his sentry defenseless. The battle, though close by the sounds of it, was drawing all attention, meaning he'd be unlikely to gain another ally to guard his sentry while he got more metal. He'd suspect the Spy was in the vicinity somewhere. So, would he try lying in wait again to see if he could catch the Spy in the act? That hadn't worked last time, so unless he thought the Spy might be cocky enough to fall for it second time around, that wouldn't be it either.

Which meant the most likely thing left was...

'Come out, boy. I know you're here, hiding like a coward.'

Insults.

'All you spies are the same! Bunch of cowards too chicken-shit to risk standing toe-to-toe with a real man. So you hide in corners, waiting for people to turn their backs on you, and only then do yah have the courage to attack, like the little snakes you are!'

As goading insults went, it was pretty weak. The Engineer seemed to realise that. As he scanned the room with his shotgun drawn, he raised his voice said, 'Aww, come on boy, you can't be _ that _ upset with the fun we had with you. I mean, it's damn obvious that wasn't your first rodeo. What happened last time, huh? What stupid thing did you do to get your skinny Spy ass caught, boy? Or maybe you let yourself get caught on purpose? Maybe you like it rough. That's it, isn't it, pretty boy? A bunch of gangbangers got carried away passing you around and someone got your face mixed up with an ashtray during their after-sex cigarette, didn't they?'

The pocked scar on the Spy's face itched but he ignored it. The words swept over him, making him roll his eyes and huff silently in annoyance, but nothing more. He'd never been one to let such things bother him, or at least he thought as such.

' _ His eyes and face are too distinct, he'll never blend into the crowd like a proper spy should,'  _ his mother would say.

_ 'He hasn't got the right build for the job, he'll never be strong enough for it,'  _ his father had stated many a time.

Those words had stayed with him, shaped him through his determination to prove them wrong, for all he thought words had no effect on him.

'You probably like getting tied up.'

Not true. Not remotely true. Not anymore, at least.

'Bet if I tied you up, stuck a wig on you and passed you around the other REDs, no one would even notice you weren't a woman.'

_ Charming. _

'You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? Bet enough men have had you that you wouldn't even notice eight more!'

The Spy was tempted then to point out he'd probably been with more women than the RED Engineer had had hot dinners, but even if he had been able to speak, he wouldn't have given away his hiding place over such petty insults.

Before the Engineer could continue, a rocket went whistling through the sky nearby. The Engineer whipped around.

Eyes cold and narrowed with concentration, the Spy uncloaked above him and shot the sentry again.

'You little fuck!' the Engineer roared. As he spun back around again, the BLU Soldier appeared around the corner. He barely had time to raise his shotgun before a rocket slammed into his chest. The resulting blast rattled the roof beneath the Spy, but he was blessedly outside of the splatter zone, as blood and gore burst across the room.

The Soldier cackled in delight, not noticing as the Spy hurriedly shot the sentry again to destroy it before it shredded his guts.

The Spy wisely chose to stay out of his way as he ran off to grab the briefcase, and knew he would get no credit for helping when the Administrator's voice boomed, 'We have captured their Intelligence!' a few minutes later.

The Spy regretted not capturing it himself now. Had the psychological warfare really been worth missing an opportunity to prove his worth to his team? He'd let his own personal vendetta get in the way of the job, the Spy realised. He'd done the same to himself as he had to the Engineer, and though he'd come out on top, what did it matter?

The Engineer was probably used to things like this and would recover, while the Spy's reputation among his team only grew worse.

It seemed as though they'd all hated their last Spy, from all he'd heard them say. Yet for every stride forward he took, he remained in that man's shadow. He'd been ruthless, by all accounts. Manipulative and clever and utterly ruthless, picking individual members of the opposite team to torment for a time until their spirits were crushed and their confidence on the battlefield, utterly destroyed.

What the Spy had done here today would likely have no effect in the grand scheme of things.

But at least it made him feel a little better about himself.

He slipped off the roof and into the gathering gloom, intent on doing all he could to help his team, even if nothing he did ever seemed good enough. Perhaps, like his revenge on the Engineer, this was for himself, not them.

 

_ Die. _

_ Just. _

_ Die. _

With every ragged breath, Sniper begged his body to give in. The pain was beyond unbearable. It  _ needed  _ to end.  _ He  _ needed to end.

A mini-gun roared off in the middle-distance, covering up Sniper's weak cries for help.

He hated doing that. Hated calling for Medic, abject pain echoing in his voice. His teammates understood, even the enemies too, to an extent. On this battlefield even the toughest mercenary could be reduced to a tremouring, begging mess when a shotgun blast to the stomach tore their innards to pieces or a rocket blew off both their legs.

Sniper had heard every man in this war screaming in pain at some time or other. He'd had the BLU Scout collapse at his feet, his eyes blind, his mouth melted like plastic into a rattling, gaping hole.

He'd found the RED Demoman, head thrown back, draining his hip flask dry while clutching his guts to his side with the other hand, tears of pain coursing down his cheeks.

He'd spotted Spy go down and rushed to his aid, only for Spy to gasp his last breath as he clawed at Sniper's arm with bloody fingers, eyes wide and desperate.

As a unanimous, unspoken rule, the team never talked about those times, and only rarely used them to mock the enemy team (well aware that the enemy likely had as much, if not more, of the same material to use against them.)

So as Sniper lay propped against a wall, mind reeling from his shattered left leg, broken ribs and the bloody gashes across his torso and left hip, he knew he should feel no shame in crying out for help, but despite all the pain, he did.

The BLU Demoman he'd killed, just as the sticky bomb trap that caught him went off, had long since been dragged through respawn, the only marker Sniper had for how long he'd been there.

_ It hurt it hurt it hurt. _

Somewhere nearby, Sniper thought he heard light footsteps. Someone running. He swallowed, licked his dry lips and tried to bring himself to call for Medic again. The word died in his mouth, crumbled to funeral ash as a lithe shape slid into the room.

The shape, shadow on shadow, paused, like a deer listening for predators.

Sniper realised he was holding his breath, his body automatically seeking to hide from the enemy.

Pointless. Stupid. Best to get this over with.

He let out a hoarse sigh.

The shadow flicked its head around then stilled again.

Sniper could just about make out the outline of the BLU Spy's balaclava on his face and see dark pits were his eyes must be.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Sniper forcing himself to keep breathing. He swallowed again, wanting to say something, anything, to break the silence. Even if it would just be him begging for death.

The BLU Spy took a wary step closer, as though Sniper were a cornered wolf, not a man bleeding out onto dusty floorboards. Still, the Spy stared down to him, those bright blue eyes visible now, despite the gloom. Sniper couldn't stand to look him directly in the eye. He glanced away, pain furrowing his brow.

Every breath was agony, and still the BLU Spy stood before him, poised as if for fight or flight at the slightest disturbance.

Sniper's jaw worked, words trapped just behind his teeth.

More minigun fire. A booming laugh. Still too far away. But close enough to startle the Spy. His head whipped around towards the sound.

Sniper hissed in a breath, pride and pain warring. The end to all of this was so close, if only he could ask for it.

He could never have asked the last Spy for death. Could never have been able to stand allowing him that power over him, no matter how many times he had gleefully taken it anyway.

But this Spy was not the same man...

The Spy turned to slip away.

'Please,' Sniper gasped, voice thin and breathless.

The Spy turned back to look at him, blue eyes calculating.

Somewhere not far away, off towards RED's intelligence, Heavy laughed again, shouting something loud and mocking that was lost to the blood pounding in Sniper's head.

The Spy glanced towards the sound, back at Sniper, and then turned away. He slipped back out of the room in the opposite direction from the one he'd entered, without a backwards glance.

Sniper hung his head, breathing in shallow gasps.

_ Bastard. _

Sniper screwed his eyes up close, trying to take his mind of his slowly, oh so slowly, dying body using the sounds beyond that of his own laboured breathing.

He thought the heard Medic shout something. It wasn't much of a stretch of the imagination to imagine he was out there with Heavy, defending their intelligence. 

Sniper whispered Medic's name, more out of a sense of duty than from hope.

The distant sounds of war grew louder and louder, Sniper raising his head slowly, blinking his eyes open, as footsteps approached again.

Heavy, rapid footsteps. More than one set.

A shadowy shape ran into the room, paused for just a moment, then ran on, disappearing from sight as quickly and quietly as he had appeared.

The much heavier footsteps followed a moment later, a panting Heavy bursting into the room, minigun in his hands. Medic, close behind.

It took Sniper by surprise to see his saviour here, in the room, that for a moment, Sniper just stared.

Then common sense and survival kicked him into gear.

'Medic!' he croaked, just as the doctor ran past him. Medic came to an abrupt stop, coattails swirling around his legs.

'Sniper?'

Sniper let out a shuddering sigh of relief, not questioning how Medic had noticed such a quiet call. There was no point; Medic couldn't explain his uncanny ability to track down nearby wounded allies, no matter how many times Scout pestered him to explain. Medic had grown so annoyed by the continuous questions that he'd ended up telling Scout he had a "whiny bitch detector" and the sulking Scout hadn't asked again.

'What have I given you permission to use my medical bay for?' Medic asked.

'Doing tattoos,' Sniper replied. ‘I told Spy I’d finish his stag’s head tonight.’

Medic nodded, satisfied that this was a teammate and not a clever ruse by the enemy Spy. Sniper wondered dully if he knew the Spy couldn't speak. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, though he couldn't explain exactly why. Maybe it felt unfair, letting them know about this one big disadvantage of the Spy's.

Though why he should hide any weaknesses of an enemy...

Or why...

As RED fumes wrapped around him, easing the pain and mending his wounds, Sniper couldn't help but wonder...

'So glad you found me, doc,' he sighed. 'I'm surprised you did though.'

Heavy tramped back into the room.

'Ah, doctor! Here you are. I lost the little Spy, then turned around and you were gone! I was worried!'

Medic waved a dismissive hand. 'I'm fine, Heavy, I'm fine. I just heard Sniper call for help as we passed by and had to stop to help. You were gone before I thought to shout after you.'

'Hmpth! Sniper is very lucky! Very lucky that we have such a good doctor and that the silly little BLU Spy uncloaked in front of us!'

'He did?' Sniper asked, flexing his foot to make sure everything was working as it should.

Heavy laughed. 'Yes! BLUs were trying to get Intelligence but we and Engineer were stopping them! Then, just when things were quiet at last, little BLU Spy came along to have a go, but uncloaked too early and we saw him!'

'I'm afraid we got a little bit caught up with repelling the BLUs from our borders and ran right after him,’ Medic said. ‘We left Engineer behind to guard the intelligence, though.’

Just then the Administrator's voice boomed over the intercom: 'The enemy has taken our Intelligence!'

Medic swore and Heavy ran off back towards the fighting as fast as he could while carrying his minigun.

'Thanks doc!' Sniper called as Medic disappeared after him.

Sniper knew he should be following too, but while the Medigun healed all physical ills, it couldn't do anything for how emotionally draining getting blown up could be. Sniper slowly dragged himself to his feet, legs still slightly shaky.

The BLU Spy...

Had he...

Had he done that on purpose? Led the Medic straight back to him?

Sniper tried to dismiss the thought. More likely the new Spy had just made a mistake and decloaked at the wrong moment. Right? No matter how Sniper tried to convince himself that had to be what happened, he couldn't ignore what a huge coincidence it was.

So...if the Spy  _ had  _ been helping him... was that a thank you?

Sniper wasn't sure he wanted it, not when it made things so much more complicated. Even if he had been the one to ask for help…

It was too confusing to think about.

 

After the match, Sniper met with Spy to add colour to his tattoo. They spent much of their time in silence again. If Spy was waiting for Sniper to start the conversation, he was disappointed. This time around, the thoughts swimming around Sniper's head were fetal, not yet fully-formed enough to bring out into the world. Just  _ what  _ was going on with that enigmatic BLU Spy, and why did Sniper care? He had no answers, but he wasn't entirely sure what all the questions were yet either.

In the end, Spy had to break the silence.

'So how are thing going between you and the new Spy?'

Sniper started, pulling away from Spy's arm before he accidentally jabbed him in the wrong place. 'What do you mean?' he asked, confused and a little concerned.

'You know,' Spy replied. 'Just what we were talking about last time and such...'

'Oh yeah. Umm...' Sniper didn't like admitting this but he was going to have to. 'You were right. I was...treating him like the other Spy. Now I'm, uh, I’m not.'

'That's good,' Spy said.

Sniper secretly thought that if he confessed to letting the BLU go, Spy would probably change his mind on that. He wanted to bring up what had happened with Engineer and the sentry gun, as he was pretty sure Spy would be on his side on that one, but he didn't really want to snitch on Scout and Soldier's part in it. And he definitely couldn't mention his suspicions that the BLU had saved his life out there today.

In the end he stayed silent, working on the tattoo until it was finally finished at last. He held up a mirror for Spy to see it properly.

Spy stared at it a long time, a smouldering cigarette clamped between his teeth.

The tattoo filled the remaining spot nicely, but stood out from its fellows, and not just because of the reddened skin below. It was much brighter than the faded tattoos surrounding it and, much to Sniper's pleasure, it was definitely the most artistic of them.

Spy nodded thoughtfully, watching the tattoo flex as he removed the cigarette from his mouth. 'Thank you, Sniper. Thank you.'

As Sniper wrapped up the tattoo, he felt a sense of closure. It might seem ironic to some that Spy's apology to him required him to do all the work, but Sniper recognised from the story Spy had told of his other tattoos, that sitting through the pain and carrying around the resulting mark was his form of penitence.

Sniper wasn't entirely sure if that was a healthy thing; to carry your mistakes with you for life, inked into your skin. But Spy was a cleverer man than him, and a wiser one. Which meant he must know more about these things than Sniper did, right?

'Oh!' Sniper said, as that suddenly triggered another thought. 'Uh, did you get a chance to look into, you know, what the last BLU Spy left me?'

Spy paused, halfway to the door, a wisp of smoke coiling around him. He sighed and slowly turned back to Sniper.

'All true, I'm afraid. As far as I can tell, everything he passed onto you was fact.'

'Oh,' Sniper said quietly. 'Well...thank you.'

Spy nodded in acknowledgement and left Sniper to his private musings.

All true. All true. Sniper sighed heavily as he cleaned up his equipment. He'd known it must be; it just made so much sense. He tried to look on the bright side. At least he knew exactly where he stood on  _ something.  _

The new BLU Spy however, remained a mystery.

 

Over in the BLU base, the Spy was hiding away in his room, frowning at the wall opposite, itching for the cigarettes he'd given up years ago.

They'd won. It should have been cause for celebration, but all it took as Scout taking credit for all three briefcases and the base descended into arguing.

It was true Scout had delivered all three back to the base, but that didn't account for all the other people who cleared the way for him. For Soldier getting the first one halfway to the base before the RED Sniper took him out. For Heavy sacrificing himself to the enemy Soldier's rockets so Scout could escape. Or Pyro and Medic holding off the enemy Medic and Heavy combo with an uber. Or Sniper taking out the RED Spy just before he stabbed Scout. Or Demo charging straight into the REDs with his sword drawn to distract them.

Spy had stayed silent about his contributions, of course. About the mistakes the RED Engineer had made because of him, and about being the one to capture the final briefcase, before shoving it into Scout's hands partway across the bridge so he turn turn around and fight off the incoming enemy Pyro.

Unfortunately, staying quiet had just made him a target and he'd had to slip away as the Soldier made a grab for him, shouting something about him not pulling his weight again.

Sadly, Soldier knew where Spy lived and so every few minutes the Soldier seemed to find another reason to wonder past Spy's door so he could bang on it loudly and shout expletives at it.

The Spy was itching to stab him. Maybe showing a little aggression would get the Soldier off his back. Or maybe it would just make things worse.

He'd certainly be in deep trouble if anyone found out he'd helped the RED Sniper. He wasn't sure why he'd even done it. The Sniper had helped him out for...some reason, and he'd felt he owed a debt. He could have ignored it. Should have ignored it.

Thundering raps against his flimsy wooden door broke the Spy from his thoughts.

'I know you're in there, maggot! And do you know what I've got in my hands? Your score card! It is pathetic! You are pathetic! We should snap you into little pieces, put you in a box and send you back so we can get a replacement!'

The Spy sighed, wishing desperately for a cigarette.

 

_ The Spy bared his teeth at the South African Sniper, switchblade to his throat. The Sniper's chest rose and fell as he stared back from his position kneeling on the floor, hands raised in surrender. _

_ This wasn't right. Nothing here was right. Alarm bells rang through the Spy's mind, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. _

_ He'd needed this win. Needed it to prove to himself that he was a fraction of the fighter he used to be. To prove he was tough. To prove to this Sniper that regardless of whatever game he was trying to play here, Spy was not going to let him win it. _

_ But it had been too easy. _

_ It was as though the Sniper wanted him here. _

_ Wanted him close. _

_ The knife in Spy's hand seemed a pitiful weapon in the face of the Sniper's poorly hidden smile, his bright eyes, his swollen pupils. _

_ It made Spy's skin crawl. It reached deep inside him and wrenched all his tightly bottled insecurities free. _

_ Spy pressed the blade firmer against the Sniper's throat. The Sniper's breath caught, eyes dancing. Neither of them spoke and it made Spy seethe. He couldn't say a word, but why was the Sniper equally quiet, allowing a tense silence to grow ever more taut between them? _

_ The only thing he'd said this entire time was to calmly great Spy with "Spook" when he first uncloaked. _

_ 'Why?' Spy wanted to ask. 'Why this? Why me? What do you want?' _

 

_ He'd come here to prove to himself how much he'd recovered. In the end, he fled, the South African Sniper left kneeling on the floor, blood beading from a shallow cut to the throat. _

_ The Spy refused to look back. As soon as he was far enough away to breath easy, he slumped against a wall, wishing desperately for a cigarette. _


	8. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly quiet little chapter but I wanted to have something to share with you all since it's been a longer break than I wanted.
> 
> The reason for this is my chronic pain issue has flared up really badly, especially in my hands. Basically, while they look perfectly fine, my hands often feel like the an arthritic 90 year old lady's. So as you can imagine, sitting down and writing has been even harder than normal. Unfortunately, being in constant pain for long periods of time also has a high possibility of negatively impacting your mental health, so I'm just kind of struggling a lot right now. This is not a topic I would normally bring up in public as I'm not comfortable with it (just _my_ mental health that is, not anyone else's!) but I wanted to be transparent with the people who support this series, and me.  
>  I am still eager to continue sharing this story with you all though! I have no intentions of quitting; I just have more to battle with in getting it done than I once did.

Sniper had no more unusual encounters with the enemy Spy for the next couple of weeks. The Spy still seemed to avoid him, but it might have just felt that way in comparison to the old Spy’s obsessive behaviour.

Sniper still thought about him every now and then. It was hard not to, not when he’d been such a long, deep shadow that had spread itself so far across his life. Sniper wondered where he was now, and hoped, deeply, that he was happy there. Not out of the kindness of his own heart, but because of the nightmares he sometimes had in which the old Spy decided he wanted to come back and everything went to hell again.

Then there was everything he’d left behind about Michelle. That was hard not to dwell on, even now.

But as the days passed, the wounds both had left behind continued to gradually heal. There was plenty going on to help distract him, after all. While being trapped with the same eight people all the time could easily have become boring quick, Sniper’s teammates were such characters that it was rarely a problem. (And, thanks to his campervan, he could escape them if boredom ever did threaten.)

They celebrated Heavy’s birthday with a _lot_ of vodka, which Heavy pretended to get offended by to begin with, but even Sniper knew his sense of humour well enough not to believe him.

Then there was a debacle where Pyro accidentally left a red sock in the washing machine and all Scout’s whites turned pink, which everyone apart from him found very amusing.

Medic revealed an interest in bird watching that he’d never mentioned before and he and Sniper took a couple of pleasant trips out into the woods together, a book of local fauna and flora to hand. (Which they ignored as much as possible in an attempt to show off how much they could recognise by themselves, leading to some good-natured arguments and competition.)

Demo continued to be easy and fun company and Sniper found himself casually hanging out in his room to drink and/or chat far regularly than he would ever have thought himself comfortable doing. He’d lived in such an isolated location and had so few friends as a child that the whole “just hanging out with a mate” thing was rather the foreign concept to him.

They went into town together one Saturday. It was the first time Sniper had returned since he’d been attacked by the BLUs, but he’d completely ran out of various odds and ends that couldn’t be found anywhere on base or ordered through the Mann Co. catalogues. He steadfastly ignored the unease the town left him with, especially when they drove past the bar he’d been attacked in.

Demo said nothing about last time, keeping Sniper distracted from darker thoughts with light banter and jokes and a story about what happened the last time a man in this town had a rude word to say about his skin tone.

Demoman seemed happy to just accompany him around town and to help point out the best places to go for the various things he needed to grab. He’d never been in the arts supply shop though, and didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He ended up putting the wooden art mannequins at the back of the shop into rude poses while Sniper talked to the shop owner.

 

Poor Susan Johnson had not been expecting one mercenary to walk through her doors that day, let alone two. Her husband had only just settled down enough from her last encounter to agree that they _might_ not need to sell the business and move out of the state as soon as possible, and here it was happening again. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him this time.

The tall man with the scar from last time approached the counter, a canvas under one arm. She straightened up, still barely reaching his chest height, and reminded herself that the customer is _always_ right, especially if they’re one of those intimidating red or blue men who might kill her if she doesn’t give them a refund on their canvas, even if it is well outside the time allowed in her refund policy.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, voice slightly strangled, while she tried to ignore whatever the other man was doing with her art mannequins at the back of the room.

The scarred man hunched his shoulders and gave her a sheepish smile that reminded her the last encounter really hadn’t gone as bad as she’d been expecting, and turned the canvas around.

‘Is, uh, there something wrong with it?’ she asked, looking down at the canvas. It looked completely fine to her, and had a very nicely done stag’s head in bold black lines with bright colour underneath that had been allowed to drip down in an artistic manner.

‘Oh. Uh, I dunno, is there?’ the man asked, sounding uncertain. He flipped it back his way and studied it, biting his bottom lip in thought.

That left Susan Johnson completely at a loss until he said, ‘I thought that, you know, you could have it. To go with the others. If you wanted.’ He pointed to the wall at the back of the shop where she displayed photos people had taken of the work they’d produced using her supplies, as well as the odd sketch or art piece patrons had given her to put up. Some of them weren’t exactly… _good,_ but Susan Johnson was a firm believer that it was the thought that counted.

But she really wasn’t sure what she thought of this. People rarely gave her large canvas pieces and those that did were usually friends. (Or local artists who lived in the mistaken belief that if they used her place to advertise, someone might actually want commission some of their rather cross-eyed pet art.)

What did this man want in return?

‘Oh. Thank you,’ she said.

‘Is it alright?’ he asked.

‘Yes?’ Susan Johnson replied, still looking for the trap.

‘Oh good!’ the scarred man said, brightening up immediately. ‘It was just so nice finding somewhere to buy new art stuff, you know? And I’ve been using a lot of it just recently. Fell into a little bit of a funk for a while there, but I’m feeling much better recently and doing a lot of sketching again and a bit of painting and tried working with the clay I bought for a mate’s birthday present but it went a bit wrong so I just got him vodka instead but it turned out everyone else did but that was okay because he didn’t mind. Anyway, I had this canvas and kind of nowhere to put it where I live and I could have put it up on base somewhere but there’s pink on it so I sort of couldn’t, even though Medic said he liked it I wasn’t sure what the others would say. Demo says it’s good too and Spy must like it but I thought that maybe it would look nice here.’

Susan Johnson just nodded politely, trying to keep up. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said, and she meant it. ‘I’m sure it would look lovely on the wall.’

‘Ah, brilliant!’ The scarred man’s face cracked into a big, crooked smile that wasn’t as intimidating as Susan Johnson thought it should have been. Now she thought she knew why she’d accidentally invited him to her life drawing and knitting classes last time.

‘I’ll just leave this with you then! I wanted to get a couple more paint brushes while I’m here.’

Five minutes later and the shop was empty again, leaving a slightly frazzled Susan Johnson with a lovely new piece to add to her display and some very questionably posed art mannequins. She waited until both men were well out of sight before going to fix them, deciding as she did that she was definitely not going to tell her poor old husband about this.

 

Like the RED Sniper, the BLU Spy didn’t have the most eventful of times either over that quiet fortnight. He kept to himself as much as he could off the battlefield, more by necessity than by preference. Unlike the RED Sniper, he did not enjoy his teammates’ company and they made it very clear they didn’t enjoy his.

His last team hadn’t been sure what to make of him either, but things had improved over time. The opposite was true here. The BLUs of Double Cross just seemed so much more hostile and disjointed than his last team. It was as if most of them would be the one problem member in any other team but had all somehow ended up together.

The only one who seemed easy in his presence was the Scout, but the Spy suspected that was because having someone mute to talk to meant he got to do all the talking. Spy would be able to nod and shake his head, or shrug if the occasion called for it, but the Scout couldn’t understand any form of sign language. He also seemed to struggle a bit with reading and wasn’t very happy to be reminded of the fact so Spy had to keep written messages to a minimum.

He had, however, been able to enquire about the last Spy and ended up on the receiving end of an admittedly very informative, if rather rambling and expletive-heavy rant, about how awful the last Spy had been; but even the Scout had to admit he’d been very good at shutting down the enemy team. Especially the Sniper, he said. Spy had tried to encourage him to continue but he’d gone strangely quiet after that.

The Engineer was civil with him but it was clear that Spy’s lack of speech made him a little uneasy. It probably didn’t help that his role made him a key target of the enemy Spy and that according to the Scout, the last BLU Spy had also made a lot of digs at him during the time they worked together.

Likewise, the Sniper didn’t seem entirely settled in his presence, especially to begin with. However, he didn’t seem to mind Spy’s silence at all, and rarely sought to fill the empty air between them, unlike the Engineer. The two of them could co-exist within the same space without being a bother to either, and though it wasn’t the casual companionship Spy would much rather have had with a teammate, it was better than what he got from the rest of the team.

The Pyro was a hostile little mystery. Spy wasn’t even sure if they were actually a man or not and it was clear they were not interested in letting Spy (or anyone else on the team for that matter) get to know them well enough to find out.

The Demoman was even more aggressive, actively seeking Spy out when he was drunk (which he seemed to be an alarming amount, both on and off the battlefield) to berate him. Spy thought he really must believe he was talking to the team’s last Spy from all the specific insults thrown at him, but the Scout had explained he would never have dared to say most of that stuff to the previous Spy so he had to know who he was really talking to. It was just the new Spy’s bad luck to being used as an emotional punching bag.

But at least it was better than being used as a literal punching bag by the Soldier. Spy did all he could to avoid altercations in the belief they’d just fracture the team more. When it became apparent he couldn’t avoid fights, he’d gone for at least trying to avoid all the blows. Eventually he decided he’d made a mistake in not just standing up for himself in the first place, but it was very hard to do so when he couldn’t talk. In the end, he’d stood up for himself in the only way he could think of, by throat-punching the Soldier. Unfortunately, this had only made the Soldier worse and now he’d been forced to go back to avoiding him as much as possible.

The Heavy was even more of a brick wall than the Sniper. He made no attempts to interact with Spy outside of what was strictly necessary and would acknowledge neither his  successes nor his mistakes. It would have been welcoming if it hadn’t been so isolating.

Then there was the Medic. (Whom the Heavy seemed to do his best to ignore too, but with less success.) He was prickly and unpleasant in a way that reminded Spy of some kind of mangy predator poking for weakness in another animal. Spy did his best to hide all signs of weakness from him and would avoid seeking him out for healing as much as possible. Not that the Medic wanted to heal him anyway. He’d said to Spy’s face that “healing a Spy is a waste of time,” while hiding from the RED Sniper’s rifle with nowhere to go until the Sniper looked away and nothing better to do than heal Spy’s torn ligament. But he couldn’t be bothered to and in the end it was down to the RED Sniper to put Spy out of misery, and not for the first time.

 

All in all, Spy found it best to avoid most of his teammates. He knew that in a way it didn’t help at all. Being new and mute made him enough of an alien aspect to the team without him avoiding as many chances for socialisation as he could, but he felt he had few choices and the energy and motivation for even fewer.

Once upon a time, charming his way into the heart of the team would have been no trouble at all. He’d always been charismatic and a great story-teller, with an eye for judging his audience. He could have casually mentioned brutal fights he’d won if he’d needed to intimidate, exciting chases if he wanted to engage them, great victories if he wanted to impress, masterful seductions if he wanted to show off, or tales of pratfalls and misadventures if he wanted to seem more human and make them laugh with him, not at him.

But all those tales were locked deep inside him, the words that would have spun simple stories into entertaining yarns trapped away. None of them could understand sign language, not even the Pyro, and few, if any, had the patience to read what he wrote down on a notebook he carried around in his breast pocket.

Besides, Spy had long since learnt how the flow of a conversation could wash by the topic he wished to discuss before he ever had time to finish writing his comment down. Communicating with him took that little bit of extra effort and no one here really seemed interested in putting it in. Maybe it was that, and his otherness, that made it so easy for them to concentrate on his failures and ignore his growing successes.

So he avoided them as best he could. But he was not always successful.

 

_He avoided the South African Sniper for a few days after that, too confused by the Sniper’s behaviour and too suspicious of his motivation. Over the days, his annoyance and frustration grew though. At both of them._

_He was a Spy. He wanted answers._

_He decided to turn the tables. He’d always had a prickling sense the Sniper was watching him. Now he took to lurking in the shadows, watching the Sniper. He wasn’t always an easy man to find, and even then, not always an easy man to keep an eye on. Despite being larger than Spy, he seemed to be able to weasel his way into any crack, crevice or ledge, often making it difficult for Spy to get close. Not that he wanted to get close. From what he observed of the Sniper, he didn’t seem to have much going for him, personality or hygiene-wise._

_Beyond that though, Spy was able to gather frustratingly little on him. When he was sniping, he was like a spider waiting in the middle of a spider web, patient, silent, and perfectly poised to take down his prey. When on the move, he slipped through all kinds of shortcuts and hidey-holes that Spy was ashamed to admit he hadn’t had any idea existed. He also moved around unusually often, as though searching for something specific. Spy had a nagging suspicion that thing was him._

_If Spy been able to talk it would have been so much easier. He could have disguised as one of the Sniper’s teammates and found some way of asking leading questions about himself._

_As it was, all he could do was watch. He didn't even dare take advantage of the situation by stabbing the Sniper unless he was in an easy to find spot, not wanting to give away how long he’d been following him for. Especially when, if the Sniper was really looking for him all this time, his absence had to feel suspicious to the Sniper._

_In the end, he gained very few answers to the questions he actually wanted to know and many to those he hadn’t. (Such as “why does he drag glass jars around with him everywhere he goes”.) Beyond those answers, the Sniper remained one of a spy’s least favourite things: a mystery._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to LegendaryBard for editing this and the previous chapter for me!


	9. Mercy-Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, and for the short chapter.  
> I was busy over Christmas and mental/physical health stuff has been kicking my butt.  
> I'm also sorry for not replying to last chapter's comments. I'll make sure I do this time around because your lovely comments really make a difference to me! Thank you everyone who has offered support so far; it really does mean a lot to me.

 

Sniper had brief encounters with the enemy Spy here and there. Or at least, he sometimes woke up in respawn without warning, and he got some nice headshots off on the guy, but that was it until one particular humiliation round.

They’d lost the last couple of matches and it had been a close thing that night, everyone fighting tooth and nail to capture the final briefcase.

Sniper and Demo had worked together to get in, with Demo resorting to some risky maneuvers to get the Intelligence back to base before the BLU Pyro could get the RED briefcase back to their own base.

 

Sniper watched the Pyro and Intelligence vanish from in front of him as energy coursed through his body from the effects of the humiliation round. He rolled his shoulders, the ache from sitting hunched over his rifle so long gone. He felt good. Satisfied. It had been a close thing, but they’d earned this victory. Better yet, he’d played a pivotal role in it.

With a bounce in his steps and a happy hum, Sniper headed back towards base. He took a winding path through several buildings rather than going straight across the bridge, wanting to saviour the peace and calm a little longer.

As someone who had an instinct for tracking though, he found his eyes drawn to the fresh blood spatters he passed in one building. They probably weren’t from anyone dead, as respawn tended to take most, though admittedly not all, blood back through with it.

They lead farther towards the RED base, making Sniper wonder if one of his teammates was hurt. He knew everyone on the team could look after themselves, but he didn’t like the thought of wandering past a suffering teammate without realising. Unless it was Engineer. Fuck the Engineer.

‘Hello?’ Sniper called curiously.

No response. It could have been someone who’d walked past recently, hurt but on the way to Medic. Or someone unconscious. Or an enemy team member.

The last thought made Sniper pause. He wasn’t in the mood for killing a defenceless BLU. Except maybe the Soldier, who’d blown him up three times today. But he didn’t want to show any weakness in front of one either.

He continued on slowly, footsteps light, following the trail. Most likely it was only a lightly injured teammate by how small and far apart the splashes were. Could have been someone hurrying though, judging by how widely they’d been spread out to either side of the route the person had taken. An injury to their right side by the looks of it.

Sniper followed it through to a dusty old room, a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling, thick with cobwebs. Whatever the room’s original use was had been lost to time and apathy; now it was just used to store the endless crates and pallets and barrels that seemed to always litter the battlefield no matter how many they blew up or burnt down.

The blood spots increased and grew closer together in front of a crate in one corner, indicating whoever had passed this way had slowed down. And likely come to a stop.

This probably wasn’t going to be a teammate, Sniper knew. This was most likely a mistake. He was bound to regret it, but all the same, innate human curiosity kicked in. He couldn’t help but take the last two steps across the room to look behind the crate.

And there was the new BLU Spy.

The BLU Spy’s eyes widened at the sight of him, chest rising as he took in a breath, fists clenching, one clapped over a bloody ankle. Then all traces of fear were gone, whisked away as though the BLU Spy had pulled a second mask over his face. He simply stared back at Sniper, his blue eyes intense even in the gloom.

Blood glistened on his bottom lip where it had been split, and there was more smeared across his chin and mask.

Sniper had known he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to kill whoever was behind the crate, not during the humiliation round. He’d also known that not to do so was to show weakness. But what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Sniper just stood there, staring down at the Spy, who stared silently back at him.

The Spy’s injuries didn’t look severe from what he could see, but Sniper had a strange and undeniable instinct to go find a medipack for him. He managed to realise what an awful, awful idea that was before he opened his mouth to tell the Spy.

This guy was the enemy. He’d _killed_ Sniper before. Sniper disliked him, just like he disliked all people who’d killed him. There was just something about it that left him with a bit of a grudge. But to be fair, he’d also killed the guy before, and probably more times than the other way around.

And he wasn’t exactly the last Spy.

And he’d kind of, sort of, helped him out before.

And suspected he’s been helped back.

And that was just confusing and worrying to think about, let alone _completely_ against his contract.

Sniper couldn’t kill the Spy. But he also couldn’t help him.

‘Rest of RED’s already heading back to base,’ he said gruffly, knowing it to be true because he’d been the farthest out when the match ended and everyone would be keen to discuss (and in most cases, brag about) the win.

‘You’ll be fine here.’ Too soft, he shouldn’t have said that.

‘Go find your Medic and get yourself sorted out.’ Too bossy.

‘If respawn doesn’t fix it, I mean.’ Too damn _obvious_.

The Spy’s gaze flickered over Sniper as he listened, but he gave no reaction.

Probably because everything Sniper had just said made him look like a complete moron, and a soft fool to boot. This wasn’t remotely professional of him.

Sniper gave the Spy a short, tight, nod and then headed away, cringing inside so hard he thought he might actually implode from first-hand embarrassment.

Why had he stopped to check? Why had he said those things? Why did he even care in the first place?

Because that was the worst thing. He shouldn’t, but somehow he’d accidentally...Sniper wasn’t sure how to describe it. Become kind of _invested?_ In the enemy Spy’s well being. Even though they killed each other on a regular basis. How had he let something so strange and so bloody _stupid_ happen? In trying to make up for treating the new Spy as a stand-in for all his anger at the old, he’d gone too far.

It wasn’t good for him. It wasn’t good for the job. It wasn’t good for the team.

Even so, as he walked away, he hoped the BLU Spy would listen to his advice, even if he regretted giving it.

 

The Spy stayed where he was and waited for respawn to drag him back through. This latest encounter with the enemy Sniper had been odd and deeply embarrassing. He still felt humiliated by needing the Sniper to step in and stop the other REDS from torturing him, and a little awkward about the fact that he’d helped the Sniper out in return. He hoped the Sniper didn’t realise he had. But now this had happened. The Sniper had spared him and in his own, strange way, wished him well.

If the South African Sniper had acted like this towards the Spy, it would have made his skin crawl. Somehow, this Sniper just seemed so much easier to read. His motivation didn’t appear to come from wanting anything from someone else, more than he wanted to uphold whatever code of conduct he personally held himself too. No torture. No killing helpless enemies. Admirable stuff, really, if somewhat naive for a mercenary. And yet, he’d done the same in return.

Were the two of them going to keep doing this; helping and sparing each other when they shouldn’t, when they had no reason to and it only stood to harm themselves and their teams?

No. The Spy was too professional for that. From now on, no more kindness. Except...except maybe if he found the Sniper hiding during a humiliation round, perhaps he would spare him too. The Spy hadn’t joined in with the humiliation rounds much himself anyway, beyond being the occasional victim of one when his team lost. It was no skin off his teeth to let the Sniper live when they won.

The Spy prodded at his split lip, so deep in his own thoughts that he barely registered the sting of it. He wouldn’t be going to the Medic of course. The Sniper had been wasting his time there. Even if the Medic would be willing to heal him, he wouldn’t go. His injuries were too minor (even if the cut on his leg had bled like a bitch to begin with) and besides, healing would involve the medigun. Involve that cloying antiseptic and eucalyptus smell filling the air, wrapping around him, crawling up his sinuses and etching itself into his brain.

The Spy’s fingers cramped, pain flaring in split lip. He dropped his hands into his lap, looking down at them, feeling like they were some other person’s hands, someone far away.

The blue gloves covering them didn’t help. He still wore them all the time, clinging to an easy excuse to keep them covered at all time.

Respawn pulled him through.

He blinked his eyes into a bright white room, the pain in his ankle completely gone, but the sting of his lip still there and his mind still miles away.

A fist flew towards his face. The Spy acted on instinct, twisting away. A moment too late. The fist caught him on the corner of his eye, sending pain spiking through his skull. He stumbled. The Soldier advanced, shouting obscenities, blaming him for the lose.

The Spy’s shock and pain hardened into anger. The Soldier had rushed headlong into the enemy Engineer’s nest, drawing the RED’s attention just as Spy had been about to stab him. If it wasn’t for the Soldier, he knew he could have snatched up the Intelligence and likely won them the match. But here was the Soldier, bellowing at him again for no reason. His accusations were hollow and petty, and clearly used to try and cover up his own shortcomings during the match.

The Spy spared a glance for the other men around him. The Heavy had already turned his back on the drama and walked away. Engineer held Scout back as he tried to fight his way to them. The others were just standing there, watching it unfold. The Sniper had a frown on his face, the Demo, a manic grin, the Medic, an amused look. God only knew what Pyro’s expression was under the mask, but they had their head tipped to the side like a curious bird.

No sign of anyone on his side, except perhaps the Scout (who might just have been upset at being left out of the fight.)

No sign of anyone else attempting to beat his head in either though. He’d take it.

All his embarrassment, all his frustration at himself and life and this situation, all his past regrets and present failings, all his anger, went into viciously snapping his knee into the Soldier’s gut.

The Soldier's red-faced tirade ended with an “oof!” as he bent in half, completely winded. The Spy took full advantage of the situation. He slammed an elbow down onto the Soldier’s back before he could straighten up, and grabbed him in a choke-hold. The Soldier spluttered and panicked, even more red-faced than before. Teeth gritted in determination, the Spy held on, sinking to one knee to steady himself and strengthen his hold. The Soldier flailed, lashing out with heavy but impotent fists. It wasn’t long before his struggles weakened, but the Spy kept it up until he knew for sure the man had fallen fully unconscious.

The Soldier slumped bonelessly to the floor as the Spy stood back up. The Demoman immediately brushed past him, bumping into him as if he was no threat at all, to go heft the Soldier up onto his shoulder.

‘You’ll regret that,’ he muttered in a low voice, before raising it to say to the Medic, ‘Should I get him to the medibay?’

‘No,’ the Medic said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘Leave him propped up in the corner, out the way. If he wakes-up with a headache, he can use a dispenser. If he doesn’t wake up at all, respawn will handle it. And if there’s any lasting brain trauma from the lack of oxygen, we’ll never notice.’

The Spy turned away from them, still seething internally.He made sure to appear completely calm though, as if strangling his coworkers was just an unfortunate, everyday part of the job.

By the time he’d finished putting everything back away in his respawn locker, studiously ignoring the rest of his team, there was only the Sniper left.

‘Not bad, that,’ the Sniper said as the Spy passed him by.

There was a strange, almost regretful tone to his voice that unsettled the Spy more than anything else that had happened that night.

 

_In the end, he cracked. He left a note tucked away in one of the South African Sniper’s favourite roosts, one that he knew few other mercenaries entered._

_“Why do you watch me?”_

_He wrote it in neat, elegant handwriting with no hint as to the frustration that underlined the four words. No hint as to how the question had eaten away at him since he arrived, festering like an infected wound._

_He didn’t sign it. It wouldn’t do to leave his title on the note on the off-chance the wrong person saw it. And if the South African Sniper found it, he’d know. Even if he turned out to be the type of person to deny it, he’d still know._

_The Spy just hoped he’d get his answers._


	10. Dismissal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hasn't been beta read so my apologies for any random typos!

 

When the match started the next day, Sniper moved deeper into the battlefield than he normal would. He knew it was a risky move, but he was curious to see if the BLU Spy was okay. Which was an unacceptable thing to even think about, so he tried not to. He was just taking up a more aggressive position than usual to throw the enemy off, that was all. Definitely.

The BLU Spy wasn’t usually the easiest of guys to find though, so Sniper thought it was unlikely he’d spot him any time soon. To his surprise, he was wrong.

After around ten minutes, he caught a glimpse of the Spy moving through a derelict building on the other side of the main bridge. A moment later he disappeared under his Cloak and Dagger.

Frowning with concentration, Sniper tracked roughly how far he thought the BLU could get before his cloak needed to recharge again. His guess proved to be spot-on. The Spy uncloaked directly in his sight, looking around while he waited for his watch to recharge. If Sniper had been in any of his usual spots, he never would have seen him.

As the Spy looked around, Sniper caught sight of his face and his frown deepened. The BLU still had the busted lip from yesterday. He hadn’t been to see his Medic, despite common sense and Sniper both telling him to. As well as that, the Spy was now sporting an impressive black eye. Sniper’s frown deepened further. The match had only just begun. If the Spy was all the way back here, the only way he could have been injured would have been with a long-distance weapon like a rifle or a rocket launcher, neither of which would have left him with just a black eye.

What had he done then, ran into a wall at the start of the match? Fallen over his shoe laces? Accidentally punched himself in the face?

The Spy looked in Sniper’s direction and then did a double take. Before Sniper could react, the Spy cloaked. Sniper cursed quietly to himself and ducked back out of view.

Urgh. What an idiot, letting himself get caught looking. He should have blown the Spy’s head off when he got the chance. It would have saved himself some embarrassment and probably would have fixed the Spy’s black eye for him. Except…

Except, the bruise hadn’t looked _that_ fresh now Sniper thought of it. He’d hurt himself (and been hurt by others) enough to know exactly the sort of colours bruises went over time, and roughly how long it took.

The Spy hadn’t had that bruise at the end of the match, but he had to have received it before today’s battle, and likely, several hours before then.

So last night most likely. Maybe he’d just got black-out drunk with the Demo or something. He didn’t seem the type to, but how would Sniper know? He knew nothing about this new Spy. He didn’t _need_ to know anything about this new Spy. He _needed_ to start acting like a professional again. This was ridiculous. This was an enemy he was worrying about; a man he was literally paid to kill over and over, and who was paid by the opposite team to do the same in return.

Sniper shook his head hard, annoyed at himself. This stopped here, before he did something _really_ stupid.

Like get himself fired while on Contract Zero.

That sobering thought was enough to make his mind up once and for all.

From now on he’d treat the BLU Spy the same as any other enemy.

 

Even with the distraction of his split lip and slightly swollen eye, the Spy felt like he’d done well for himself that day. True, they’d lost again, but it had been a close thing. The Spy knew he’d done his very best though, and while not usually the type to lay blame at anyone else’s feet, this loss had definitely not been on _him_.

As soon as respawn pulled him through, the Spy dumped his belongings back in his locker and moved for the door as quickly as he could without looking like he was running away. The Soldier was most certainly the type of man to hold a grudge, after all.

The Scout beat him out, calling, ‘I win!’ back at the rest of the team, none of whom had been aware there was a race to leave, or cared.

No one followed the Spy or called after him, which wasn’t unusual, but it was nice not to be followed by any shouted threats of violence after yesterday.

In fact…

It had all been too quiet, with the usual exception of the Scout. Suspicion prickled at the back of the Spy’s neck. He cloaked as soon as he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and retraced his steps on light feet.

He stopped a couple of meters before the respawn room, just before his watch ran out of charge. He stayed still and invisible and listened carefully.

‘It’s within our rights to do!’ he heard the Medic say.

‘What if we just get someone worse though?’ asked the Sniper.

‘This one _is_ the worst!’ said the Demoman with a derisive snort.

‘Hudduh-huddah!’

The Spy stared at the Pyro’s shifting shadow as they threw up their hands in disgust. He couldn’t actually see anyone from where he was standing, but he recognised all their voices. And what this conversation likely meant for him.

‘Look, to me the only good spy is a dead spy, but honestly? This guy is definitely not the worst I’ve had to work with. He’s not even in the bottom five.’ That was the Sniper again. The Spy had never been sure what to make of him, and it sounded like the Sniper wasn’t too convinced about him either. “Not the worst spy” was definitely not a compliment, after all. Especially to a man who’d once been one of the very best young up and coming talents in the espionage world.

‘Hell, have you all forgotten how bad the last one was?’ the Engineer asked, his voice quiet. The Spy was surprised to hear him talk up at all. His short stature, wide frame, and reliance on intellect and machines to do most of his fighting for him left him almost as much of an outsider as the Spy

‘He was an asshole, but he was an effective asshole,’ sniffed the Medic. ‘None of us miss him, but we need a better spy.’

‘No we don’t!’ barked Soldier. ‘We don’t need a better spy; we’re good enough to win without any dirty little backstabbers!’

‘I’ve already put the application in,’ Medic said.

‘Urgh, you idiot!’ Sniper snapped. ‘Yeah, this Spy had his weaknesses for sure, but who knows who we’ll get next! What if it’s someone who really is completely useless?’

‘This one can’t even speak!’ Medic pointed out, hotly.

Sniper ignored his interruption. ‘What if we get a complete asshole like the last? Someone who plays mind games with us for fun and start fights and set us against each other just because he’s bored and we’re too fucking stupid to realise what’s going on?’

‘Hey!’ Demoman shouted.

The Sniper barrelled on. ‘Because don’t you idiots get it? That’s what this has all been about. Not this current Spy, but the last.’

‘What do you mean?’ the Heavy asked levelly, speaking up for the first time.

‘Urgh, it’s…’ the Sniper began, pausing as if to pull his thoughts together. From what the Spy had seen of him, he didn’t seem to like being the centre of attention, and wasn’t much of a talker to begin with.

‘Okay, so yeah, the current guy is a bit...odd, with the not being able to talk and all. It’s definitely a disadvantage, but he’s been doing fine out there for someone new to the team despite that.’

Someone snorted, the Spy couldn’t tell who.

 _‘Really_ ,’ the Sniper insisted. ‘This is exactly what I mean. I’m not naming any names, but there’s some of you who definitely took more time to settle into this place than him.’

That was met with a silence, the Pyro’s shadow shifting across the wall once more.

‘ _He’s_ not the problem. It’s how much the old Spy got into our heads.’

‘He never—’ the Demoman started.

‘I’ve heard the things you’ve said to the new Spy! Things about the last you would never have said to his face, even when drunk as hell!’

That seemed to shut the Demoman up.

‘The last Spy was a dick. We all know it. We all hated him for it. He was good at his job but he was a _dick_. Then one day, his gone, poof! Just gone. We don’t know why. We never got any proper answers, not from him, not from BLU, not from the Administrator. All we know is that he decided to up and leave. And then we we’re all left here, down a man with no explanation. Down a man we all hated with no resolution and no chance to give him that one last good punch in the face we all wanted to give him to say goodbye. So what happened?’ He let the question hang in the air. Someone muttered something too quiet for the Spy to catch. The Sniper either missed it too or decided to ignore it.

‘What happened is we all took it out on the new guy. Old Spy’s gone, but look, here’s a new one who has no idea what he’s walking into the middle of and can’t even answer back! How do we expect a teammate to get better at working with us when _we_ won’t work with him, huh? What chance did he have? And is it going to be any different with the next one we get? All we’ve done is to wait right until one Spy settled in, only to chuck him out in place of another newbie who could take even longer to settle! We’re just starting over from scratch!’

The Medic made a huffing sound. ‘Well, too late now,’ he said, sounding not the least bit moved by the Sniper’s speech. ‘As I said, I’ve already filed for a new Spy. And we’ve already been granted permission.’

The Sniper sighed audibly, all the wind taken out of his sails. He said no more, clearly feeling defeated.

Recognising that as his cue, the Spy turned around and moved silently back down the corridor.

BLU had been his last chance. This base a last chance on top of that. Would BLU really allow him a third?

If so, what kind of people might he end up with next? And if not...what was there left for him? He’d been banished from his organisation. Used his last connection. Had enough money from this job to rent a place for a few months maybe, but where? What would he do? He technically didn’t exist. Not officially anyway, he never had. Who would employ him?

The Spy forced the panic and the misery down, taking deep breaths as he locked himself back in his room. He slumped down onto his bed, staring blankly at the door. He’d survived worse, he reminded himself. Even with everything stripped away from him, he was still clever and resourceful.

He’d survive.

It just wasn’t the same as _living._

 

_The Spy returned later the day to find the note gone._

_He returned the next day, but no answer had been left in its place._

_Or the next._

_Or the next._

_Or the next._

 

_But he’d find out soon enough._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow I'm going to be starting a new job at last! Thank goodness. However, I'm going to be working about 45 hours a week between that and my part time job, plus I have volunteering, a craft fair I'm working towards and other various responsibilities.  
> In short, I'm about to be very very busy. I also need to edit and post up the last section of Blood Bonds. I will continue working on this fic but please be aware there may possibly be a bit of a longer delay between chapters, especially as this next one could potentially end up a long one.


	11. Spook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that whole work/life balance thing, huh?  
> Before we head back into a certain little shpee’s recent history, I wanted to explain how I’m going to try and handle chapter-specific trigger warnings from now on.  
> I’ve recently seen someone list them at the bottom of the chapter and it seems a really good system. Anyone who wants to avoid spoilers can do so easily, but anyone who knows they need to be a little careful when reading fics can jump to the bottom author’s note to check if there’s any content they might not be able to handle and make an informed decision from there.  
> Of course, I can’t predict every trigger but if there’s any important ones I’ve missed out, please tell me!

_It started with a victory..._

A victory that left him with a head wound, a broken ankle and burns on both his hands.

 _Was it worth it?_ the Spy wondered as he struggled to keep himself awake. It certainly didn't feel like it had been right now, but when Medic found him or respawn dragged him through, then afterwards he might feel it had been.

His team would be proud of him, after all. This win was on him and the BLUs of Badwater had proven themselves happy to celebrate each other's victories, especially if it gave them an excuse to drink.

It was a pity the Medic died a couple of minutes before they won though. Respawn had probably spat him out by now, but it might take a while for the team to notice their quiet little Spy was missing, and even longer for them to find him when he couldn't call for aid.

The Spy blinked, his vision blurring. His head was pounding horribly from where the RED Soldier had smacked him with a shovel. It was getting harder and harder to keep his focus. He blinked again, eyelids heavy.

He only meant to close them for a second.

The Spy came awake again an unknown amount of time later. He jerked back to consciousness, heart aching, head dizzy with fear, chest constricted. The terror registered before the reason behind it.

That smell. Eucalyptus and tea tree. Hell on earth.

He threw his arms out, one smacking against a wall, the other against a mattress. He was lying on a strange bed. The Spy dragged himself into a sitting position, a small, strange room spinning around him as he flattened his back against a wooden wall.

The all-too-familiar images that haunted his dreams overlayed the unfamiliar room, his mind conjuring up horrors in every corner.

He blinked rapidly, trying to separate the past from the present.

The smell wasn't the same. Less chemical, like the medigun gel Medic used, not like the stuff from before. Below that, the room smelt mustier, more animal in an unpleasantly pungent way, but not dank and bloody.

Wooden walls, not mildewed concrete. No rusty pipes. A single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling, yes, but it was a dimmer, softer light. A window above his head with tatty, sun-bleached. A battered wardrobe, one door missing, and a chest of drawers next to it with clothes spilling out. A bed beneath him, with an actual mattress and sheets. He wasn't restrained. There was a ring set into the wall above the bed, but he wasn't attached to it.

While still confused and wary, the Spy's heart rate began to steady. He'd woken up in stranger situations. Time to work out where he was, who had brought him here, how he was going to get away, and if he needed to kill anyone else today.

The Spy went to throw the sheets off himself and froze to consider several things that registered in quick succession. The first was that now most of his adrenaline spike blocking the pain had passed, his hands hurt like hell. Ah, yes. Wrestling a wounded RED Pyro's flamethrower away from them with only thin leather gloves on wasn't a very good idea.

The second was that, though his head still hurt, it wasn't as bad as before he'd fallen unconscious. Generally, falling unconscious with a nasty head wound was a wonderful way of making sure that you woke up again permanently injured, or not at all. Waking up with what felt more like a hangover than a hefty shovel-to-the-face was not normal.

The third was that his ankle didn't hurt at all. He flexed it experimentally without even a twinge of pain.

The fourth, and most pressing issue, was that his clothes were missing. The mask was still in place, but painfully flicking the covers back revealed that everything else but his underwear was gone.

All these combined painted an ominous, yet baffling image.

Who had helped him? Who had started to heal him? Why was his mask still on? Where was he? Why?

And more importantly, what were his escape options?

There were only two exits. One was a closed door across from him. Most likely locked, if an enemy had captured him. The Spy had never heard of BLUs or REDs kidnapping each other, but he was still new to this whole game. And everyone here was a trained killer of some sort, after all.

His lock-picking skills had once been legendary, but even if he was able to find something to fashion into suitable tools, his hands shook and tremoured too much these days.

The only other exit point was the window above him. It was a simple-looking affair, with no sign of a lock. But even if it was capable of opening, the Spy had no idea how far the drop on the other side was.

He gingerly pulled himself to his feet, keeping his injured hands close to his body and bracing an elbow against the wall to steady himself. As he'd feared, the thin mattress beneath him groaned in protest. He froze, listening for approaching danger. Nearby, bird called out, but nothing more.

The Spy peered out the window. He looked down first, noting with satisfaction that he was on the ground floor. If he could get out the window, he could escape.

Then he turned his attention to scrutinising the landscape. He could see the battlefield from here. There was something odd about the view, something unfamiliar.

The Spy let out a small sigh. He was on the RED side, that was why. He was in RED territory.

Well, they'd made a mistake leaving him unrestrained. He didn't care how much his hands hurt or what it took, he would escape.

The Spy whipped around at the sound of a door opening and closing. He crouched down, eyes darting around the room. He should have looked for a weapon first, not an escape.

Footsteps approached. A single pair. Moving swiftly but not running.

There was no time to get out the window, even if it would open. No time to find a weapon in the cupboard or chest or drawers, even if there was one to find.

The Spy flung himself off the bed, hands screaming in protests as he balled them into fists.

Whatever was going on here, he'd face it on his feet, the Spy decided, as self defence techniques flicked through his head.

The footsteps reached the door. There was a pause, then a soft knock.

'Hey, Spook, you awake?' a voice asked, equally soft.

The Spy's eyes narrowed. He recognised that accent and that nickname. The South African Sniper.

Apparently not expecting a reply (and the Spy not being able to give one), the door opened.

The South African Sniper peered around the corner, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the Spy standing there. Not the response the Spy expected. Somehow, it was even more unnerving than outright hostility.

The Sniper let himself into the room. _His_ room, the Spy suspected. He closed the door behind him, but it didn't quite click shut. Interesting.

'Glad to see you awake, Spook! Your ankle must be feeling much better if you're able to stand on it.'

The Spy watched him silently, studying his face and body language, trying to work out what was going on here.

'Sorry I wasn't around when you woke up. I keep a little medigun fluid to hand for fixing up bumps and bruises off the field, but I only had enough for your ankle and a little for your head. I bet your head’s still hurting though. And your hands. Can you show me your hands?'

He took a step forward and the Spy shifted back, still watching him with suspicion.

Of all the REDs, this man.

'Come on, Spook, I'm not going to hurt you,' the Sniper said placatingly. 'Look, just medigun fluid,' he added, holding up a little bottle.

Whether he really meant it or not, the Spy didn't want the Sniper or the medigun fluid anywhere near him. He took another small step back. His legs hit the bed. The window was still an unknown factor, the door blocked by the Sniper.

He could take the Sniper. As long as he was quick enough. As long as he could take him by surprise, he should be able to neutralise him long enough to escape.

The Sniper's shoulders sagged. 'Come on, Spook,' he said, his voice still calm and low. 'I'm not going to harm you. I just want to help.'

The Spy had always been good at reading people. Good at spotting lies. While it made no sense, he couldn't see a single hint of deception here. The Sniper, though strange in of himself, seemed genuine in his desire to help.

The Spy didn't like it. He didn't trust it. But if he could face his distaste for both the Sniper and the medigun fluid long enough to get his hands healed, he'd stand a much better chance of escape.

'If it makes you feel more at ease, we can go into the next room,' the Sniper said. 'It's bigger. Got more space, so you won't feel so cornered. We're in RED territory though, so I wouldn't recommend leaving until we've got you all healed up.'

The Spy stared at him in horror. The next room? If the RED Base was anything like the BLU base (and his observations from afar suggested it was), all the non-bedroom locations were communal. He wasn't about to wander out into the middle of a pack of REDs!

Unaware of his inner panic, the Sniper turned around and opened the door. He stepped outside and gestured for the Spy to follow.

The Spy listened intently. No other voices. No other footsteps. A bird called again, sounding surprisingly close. The Spy studied what little of the room he could see behind the Sniper.

More wood. Softly lit, but with a couple more windows. A table with mismatched chairs. A number of glass or plastic boxes stacked against one wall.

Cautiously, the Spy poked his head out after the Sniper. The room seemed like a kitchen and living space combined, with two more doors leading off of it. The layout didn't match anything he'd seen in the BLU base, and one look at the view from this window made him realise something. That was the BLU base there in the distance, but off to one side. He wasn't in the RED base itself, but some other building on their side of the battlefield.

'Got nothing against most of my teammates, but I prefer my own space,' the Sniper said, as though reading the Spy's mind.

'I'm more of an animal guy, really,' he added, gesturing around the room.

The boxes were actually terrariums, the Spy realised. If he squinted, he could make out a coiled snake in one, and what looked to be either a scorpion or a spider in another.

Something squawked off to his left and he peered around the door to see a one-winged parrot in a cage. 'Spook!' the parrot croaked. 'Spook!'

The Sniper chuckled. 'She's pretty clever. Aren't you, girl?'

'Pretty pretty!' the parrot said. 'Spook pretty pretty!'

If he cared for so many animals, the Sniper couldn't be that bad of a guy, could he? It did explain the smell though.

'Sit down,' the Sniper said, pulling out a chair at the table. Spy took a step into the room, reluctant. The chair was up against the back wall, the furthest place away from the other two doors, one of which had to be the exit. He glanced up at the Sniper, seeing that same, earnest, cheerful expression before.

' _Why?'_ the Spy signed. Why was the Sniper helping him? What did he want?

Confusion crossed the Sniper's face.

The Spy reached for the notebook he always kept in his jacket pocket, only to remember he wasn't wearing his jacket. He mimed writing something, fingers stiff and painful. The Sniper's look of confusion deepened.

'Do your hands hurt?' he asked.

The Spy nodded, but felt frustrated.

'Come on then Spook, let's get you sorted out. Then, once it's dark, it should be safe for you to head back to your base if you don't want to stay here.'

Of course he didn't want to stay here! But in order to get away, he needed the best possible chances of survival. Running away from the Sniper only to end up at the mercy of another RED was a hellish thought. Who knew what any of them might do if they found him apparently snooping around their territory after hours, and nearly naked to boot!

So, reluctantly, and still eyeing the Sniper suspiciously, the Spy sat down. The Sniper sat opposite and reached for a medikit on the table next to him. The Spy watched warily as the Sniper cracked it open and pulled out a bottle of medigun fluid. The Spy tensed and held his breath when the Sniper unscrewed the lid. His leg knocked against something under the table that jingled with a tinny, high pitched sound.

'Here we go,' the Sniper said. 'Hold out your hands.'

The Spy glanced down at his hands but didn't move them. He hated seeing them without gloves. Hated other people seeing them even more. But the Sniper already had...

Slowly, he moved them on top of the table. He had to take a breath then, the faint smell from the bottle enough to make his head ring.

'That's it, Spook,' the Sniper crooned. 'I healed your ankle up first because that looked the worst off, and put some on your head because you were bleeding, but I didn't have much left by then and it probably doesn't work as well through the mask anyway.'

The Spy was grateful for him leaving it in place all the same.

'Still, your hands look pretty nasty. Burns, is it?'

The Spy nodded, looking down at the shiny blisters and reddened skin.

'Pretty pretty!' the parrot added.

The Sniper poured some of the medifluid onto his hands and reached for the Spy's. The Spy flinched away momentarily. He couldn't do this by himself though, not with both hands injured.

'It'll feel better in no time,' the Sniper promised, gently catching hold of his right hand.

The Spy nodded tightly, as the Sniper rubbed the medigun fluid between his fingers and across his palms, showing no sign of being put off by the damage.

The Sniper's touch lingered more than strictly necessary. It was only a small thing. Subtle. But the Spy had been trained since childhood to notice such things. The Sniper's motivations were beginning to make a little more sense.

'Pretty pretty!' the parrot squawked again, flapping its one good wing.

The Spy retracted his hands as soon as the Sniper let go, rubbing them together to make sure all the blisters were gone. As he did, he reflected on the fact that it was a pity this Sniper wasn't his type, and was the enemy, and a bit creepy. He might have enjoyed the attention otherwise.

'What about your head?' the Sniper asked.

The Spy shrugged. It still hurt, but the Sniper seemed to have already done enough to make a difference and he didn't want to take his mask off in front of him.

'You okay then?'

The Spy nodded, unable to give anymore of a nuanced answer.

Before he could leave though, there were some questions he had to find a way to ask. He gestured down to his bare chest and tipped his head to the side, a puzzled expression on his face.

The Sniper watched the gesture intently. Too intently. 'Huh?' he replied.

The Spy did the same gesture again, irritated.

'Oh! Oh yeah, your clothes!'

The Spy gave him a flat look, not believing the feigned ignorance at all. If his suspicions here were correct, though, he probably had to be grateful that he'd been left in any clothes at all. He had to give the guy _some_ kudos for that.

'They were covered in blood so I've been trying to wash it out for you in the bathroom,' he said, jerking a thumb behind him to the door on the right. 'I know what you spies are like with your clothes.'

The Spy couldn't remember there being _that_ much blood involved, but then again, things had got pretty hectic at the end, and he had been suffering from a head injury.

'Oh, uh, one thing though,' the Sniper said. 'I, uh, kind of forgot the disguise kit was in there. And, I put your watch on the side because there was a little blood on it too, and I kind of, might of, uh, knocked it into the bath.'

The Spy's heart sank, and his suspicion rose.

'The watch is a goner, but we might be able to do something with the disguise kit!' the Sniper said hopefully. 'Let me just go grab it.' He got up and hurried over to the door on the left, with one last look back at the Spy before he left, probably making sure the Spy showed no signs of escaping.

The Spy stayed were he was for now. He knew he should be staying alert and continuing to work out all escape options, but now that his hands felt fine, all he could concentrate on was the steady waves of pain buffeting against his brain. Maybe he should have braved taking his mask off after all. Maybe he'd be able to find a way to communicate with the Sniper a wish for a moment's privacy so he could remove it without exposing his face.

The Spy leant over the table to pick up the bottle of medigun gel. He kept it held away from him as he tested the weight. Still some of the fluid left.

As he placed it back down, his right foot brushed against something. He heard the tiny little sound from earlier, like fine chain rattling. Peering under the table, he spotted a duffel bag slung against the wall, a blanket or such covering part of it. Curious (and nosy by nature), the Spy glanced up to make sure the Sniper hadn't returned yet, and then carefully pulled the zip open a little. Something shiny caught his eye, but before he could investigate any further, the Sniper returned.

The Spy nonchalantly scratched his ankle and then sat back up again to cover up what he'd really been doing.

'On second thought...' the Sniper said, holding up the disguise kit, 'I think this might be beyond repair too...'

He sat back down at the table, pulling his chair in close enough that his legs brushed the Spy's. Once again, the Spy found himself wishing dearly that the Sniper could be someone he was interested in, not someone he'd probably stab if he tried anything more.

He moved his legs away as the Sniper opened up his disguise kit. Water dribbled out. The Spy picked it up mournfully. It was fucked. Well and truly fucked. He didn't even dare test the buttons in case he electrocuted himself.

'I'm sorry,' the Sniper said, eyes round and apolagetic. 'Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?' he leant forward, still looking as earnest and guileless as before, his leg brushing against the Spy's again.

The Spy looked him dead in the eyes, shook his head and moved his legs back as far as they could go. Then stopped to think. He made a stabbing motion towards the table.

'Sorry Spook?' the Sniper replied.

If the Spy hadn't started to feel unsettled, he would have rolled his eyes. He needed to stay on this man's good side until it was dark enough for him to escape without either an invisiwatch or disguise kit to help him, but he really couldn't work out if the Sniper was doing this on purpose again.

He tried various other cutting and stabbing motions, feeling faintly ridiculous.

'Oh!' the Sniper said. 'Your knife!'

The Spy nodded, relieved.

'I didn't find one on you.'

The Spy narrowed his eyes, not believing him, until he thought back to the fight at the end of the match. He'd had to abandon his knife in the Pyro's ribs while he fought them for control of the flamethrower, hadn't he? As for his pistol... He remembered shooting the Soldier just as a shovel slammed into the side of his head, but he had no real recollection of having hold of it after that.

He was weaponless, and it was his fault, not the Sniper's.

'Do you get on with other animals?' the Sniper asked out of the blue.

 _Other animals?_ A odd way of putting it. The Spy shrugged. He'd never had anything against them, but he'd never been allowed to own a pet when he was younger, and once he'd gained the freedom to do what he liked with his life, he was no longer in the physical or financial position to do so.

'I love animals!' the Sniper said eagerly. 'I rescue injured animals and bring them back here so I can look after them.'

'Pretty pretty spook!' the parrot called.

'And I've been...watching you,' the Sniper added, fidgeting in his chair like a nervous schoolboy. The Spy was adept at hiding his emotions, but either something about his reaction showed through or the Sniper realised how odd the unexpected comment sounded, because he added, 'I mean, not like in a bad way...' He shifted more, leaning forward, eyes boring into the Spy's. The Spy fought the urge to lean away, holding his ground.

'When I saw you hurt... instincts just kicked in, you know?' He laughed nervously. 'I couldn't help it. I couldn't let the Soldier kill you.'

 _Let the Soldier kill him?_ The Spy's mind raced, head throbbing worse than ever. So it wasn't his bullet that had stopped the Soldier. The Sniper had killed one of his own teammates.

'And I couldn't let you just bleed out like that. I came straight back as soon as respawn pulled me through. I thought I was too late, but you were still breathing so...I did what I do with all injured animals, I guess. I brought you here to keep you safe.'

The Spy nodded slowly, as though it was completely understandable to mistake an enemy for a stray animal in need of rescue.

Not at all perturbed by the Spy's lack of a proper response (and possibly relying on his inability to give one), the Sniper stood up. 'Wait here a second,' he said, before going back into the bedroom. He paused before he entered to look back at the Spy. The Spy stayed were he was, a familiar numb and distant feeling creeping up on him. He fought it, fought to keep himself in the here and now. Later, he would wonder why he didn't run then, or at any point before. He had to forgive himself though, knowing what head injuries could do to one's judgement.

Still, he took the opportunity to peek into the duffel bag again, wanting to learn a little bit more about his strange enemy while he was here. The bag was simply the only thing in reach. He didn't expect to find anything of interest in it. And if he'd been given a hundred chances, he would never have successfully guessed what he'd find inside.

He kept his head above the table, not wanting to move it too much, or to take his eyes off the bedroom door. He could hear the Sniper pulling open the cupboard doors, routing around for who knew what.

His searching fingers slipped through the flap he'd opened and brushed against the item that had made a high little sound earlier. He closed his fingers around it to silence it, feeling something cold and metal in his grasp. He tugged it out the bag, another object attached to it coming free too. He risked a glance under the table and found himself holding a collar, like the type a dog or cat might wear. A dog's collar, the Spy decided, judging by the size. It made sense. The Sniper loved animals. The Spy doubted he could be keeping any dogs around, as he'd never heard any rumours of any near the base, nor heard any barking from the battlefield. A pet he'd once owned, then. A pet he clearly must have loved.

With an offhand curiosity, the Spy shifted his hold to the leather collar so he could see the name of the pet on the tag.

_Spook._

He looked from the collar to the still empty doorway, to the parrot, and back to the collar.

Spook?

He'd noticed the odd little nickname of course, but thought little of it. “Spook” was slang for a spy after all, and though he'd thought it more of an American term, he'd just assumed it was used in South Africa too.

Did he remind this strange Sniper of a _dog_ he used to own?

He risked lifting the collar closer, studying it. No nicks, no scuffs. Perfectly oiled, with that new leather smell to it. The inscription hadn't been professionally done, rather scratched crudely into the little blue disc with a sharp object.

The Spy stared, his head hurting more than ever.

This collar was new.

'Just a minute!' the Sniper called, making the Spy jump. The tag jangled in his hand. He stuffed it back into the duffel bag again, his hands shaking when they had no right to.

He'd known this Sniper was strange, but just how strange?

And what did he really want from him?

He reached back into the bag, fingers exploring. Leather, leather and more leather. Straps of it, connected together at various points, the stitches large and rough to the touch, as though hand sewn by an amateur.

If he'd had a less...adventurous youth, he might not have come to the conclusion that he was desperately trying to avoid.

It made him want to laugh a silent, hysterical laugh. Maybe it was just a dog harness. Or a horse bridle.

Maybe it wasn't the final clue as to just what kind of interest the Sniper had in him.

It was typical. Oh so damn typical. Nothing in his life could ever be simple or easy or fair. Why couldn't this have been an attractive lady or a charming younger man? Why did it have to be a strange assassin with some sort of...bondage kink?

The Spy guessed he had to at least be grateful he hadn't woken up in this stuff. The thought made him shudder. Once upon a time, he might have been interested in such things, but now the thought of restraints of any kind made his mind feel numb around the edges.

He went to remove his hand from the bag, fighting a sudden wave of nausea, when his fingers brushed against something metal connected to a band of leather. Assuming it was another collar of some kind (and desperately hoping it had something other than “spook” inscribed on it), he pulled it out. Only to find himself holding a cloak and dagger. He pulled it close, thumb moving over a familiar scratch on surface. _His cloak and dagger_.

Anger bubbled up then, cutting through the numbness and the nausea and the headache.

The Sniper should have destroyed it like he “accidentally” destroyed the disguise kit. He seemed like the kind of man who liked to keep trophies though. And injured animals as his possessions. The Spy clenched the cloak and dagger in his right hand. He wasn't some injured little animal for the Sniper to collect. He wasn't a prize or a trophy or a pet or whatever insane thing the Sniper viewed him as. He was a person. A human being with his own thoughts and feelings and desires.

The Spy straightened up as he heard a floorboard creak, tucking the watch out of sight under one leg. He forced a bland, patient look on his face even as his eyes moved from the Sniper in the doorway to behind him, where he could just make out the ring set into the wall above the bed.

Whatever good will he'd felt towards the Sniper for helping him had drained away now he was certain the Sniper was just trying to get into his pants. He wondered how the Sniper planned to broach the subject.

The RED sat back down opposite. He placed a piece of paper on the table. It was crumpled and had at some point been badly folded, but the Spy recognised his own handwriting immediately.

_Why do you watch me?_

'I saw this,' the Sniper said said, jabbing a finger towards the note. 'I saw this, and knew!'

The Spy just gave him a flat look, waiting for him to go on.

'I knew, you see.' The Sniper seemed nervous again now, twisting in his seat, picking up the note and putting it back down again. 'Knew you'd seen me. Seen me watching, and wanted to approach me. All this time I'd been watching, letting you get used to my presence. And this showed me you were ready for contact, you see?'

The Spy did not see. He didn't follow the logic at all. Except...maybe to a man who could only connect to other humans by approaching them like animals. The Spy thought he should probably be grateful the guy hadn't left bowls of cat food out for him or something.

The Sniper shifted forward in his chair, taking hold of one of Spy's hands. He cupped it in his like it was an injured sparrow, staring into his eyes earnestly. 'And then there you were at the end of the match, and I knew it was time.'

The Spy slowly pulled his hand free, shaking his head. He was being careful here, treating the Sniper himself like an animal, one that might snap and lash out at any moment.

The Sniper's face fell.'I've been watching you! I know you better than any of your teammates! I'll be here to look after you no matter what! I can shield you. I can protect you. I can keep you safe, here. You don't need to go back out onto the battlefield. You can live here with me and I'll look after you.'

Not a day went by without the Spy cursing his lack of a voice. More now than at any time before, he wanted it. Wanted to tell the Sniper exactly how deranged he sounded. Just how stupid this whole situation was. That yes, he might be mute, but he was still human! That he didn't need to be protected by anyone, let alone be kept like a little pet or a 1950's housewife.

Though if he had been able to speak, he still wouldn't have really said that. Instead he'd charm and cajole his way out of the situation, using his silver tongue to his advantage.

But without a voice, all he could do was bite his lip, shake his head again and lean away. He gripped the edges on the table, scarred knuckles white from the pressure. Beneath one thigh, his invisiwatch pressed against him, a reminder of his secret advantage.

The Sniper seemed to deflate in front of him. 'I just want to help,' he said.

“ _You have,”_ the Spy mouthed, raising his hands in appeasement.

The Sniper's brow furrowed but he didn't reply, leaving the Spy unsure if he'd understood or not.

'Look,' the Sniper said with a heavy sigh. 'I still think you should at least stay until it's dark. Without your invisiwatch, you're too vulnerable.'

The Spy nodded. Yes, he would have been, that was true.

'Do you want a drink?' the Sniper asked, moving the subject on from the rejection.

The Spy nodded. Water could only help the headache.

'Great!' the Sniper said, snapping straight back to his enthusiastic self. 'Don't go anywhere now!' He jumped up from his seat and headed over to a small kitchenette off in one corner. It looked like it had been cobbled together from bits and pieces found all over the place. The Spy wasn't sure he'd trust the water if the rusty-looking tap even worked.

To his surprise, the Sniper didn't pour him a glass of water, but pulled two brown beer bottles out of a battered mini-fridge, hooked up to who knew what electricity source by a cable that ran up the wall.

He popped the tops off them and the parrot echoed the sound back to him.

The Sniper seemed to fumble with something in one of his pockets, keeping his back to the Spy.

When he was done, he placed one beer down in front of the Spy and took a swig out of his. The Spy smiled, pretending to be grateful. The Sniper watched him intently as he had a sip of his bottle.

'Alright?' he asked. The Spy nodded and took another sip, not wanting to seem rude.

For a while, an awkward silence fell between them. The Spy watched a snake uncurl itself and nose at the lid of its terrarium, a cracked piece of perspex with holes drilled in it, held together with duct tape.

'Want to meet her?' the Sniper asked. The Spy shook his head. He had nothing against snakes and had seen a number since he started working at this base, but he preferred to maintain a respectful distance from them.

The Spy yawned.

'Aww,' the Sniper said. 'You feeling sleepy?'

The Spy nodded reluctantly. It had been a long day. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back in his base. He wanted to grab a quick snack and then curl up in his own bed, away from this strange man and his menagerie of smelly animals.

The Sniper leaned forward and caught the hand resting nearest the Spy's beer. He rubbed little circles into the back of it with his thumb. 'Maybe you should stay here tonight. It's the end of the week; you deserve a break and no one will notice if you go back tomorrow morning instead.'

The Spy would have argued if he could, but the truth was, he _did_ deserve a break.

Taking his lack of an answer as a positive, the Sniper said, 'You finish your beer and I'll change the bed. Just gotta grab the clean sheets.' Nonchalantly, he reached under the table and pulled out the duffel bag. The zip was open in one corner, but he didn't seem to notice, too keen to avoid the Spy paying it too much attention to look directly at it.

The Spy rubbed his hands against his face and blinked slowly, head drooping slightly.

The Sniper left, closing the door behind himself enough to block the bed from view. The Spy heard a faint jangle from the bag as it was put down.

Immediately, he threw himself around the table. He caught his still full beer bottle, knocking it across the table with a clatter.

The parrot let out a screech, wing buffeting against the walls of its cage.

The Sniper flung the bedroom door wide as the Spy reached the only door left that could lead to the outside world. He wrenched free a deadbolt across the door and twisted the handle. Relief slammed into his chest as the door opened. Living in the middle of nowhere with nothing worth stealing, the Sniper hadn't bothered in investing in a proper lock. It was the only thing that allowed the Spy to escape in time. He activated his invisiwatch as he threw himself outside.

There was a short drop on the other side, his bare feet hitting dusty, hard-packed earth.

He ran hard, not caring which direction he went in, only that it was away from the Sniper. He didn't get far before he was forced to stop and let his invisiwatch charge.

The Sniper burst out of the building after him, shouting.

'Come back!' he yelled. 'I only want to look after you!'

The Spy turned back to glare at him. He couldn't risk moving on yet, not with the Sniper scanning the area for any sign of movement when the ground was so dry and dusty.

'I wasn't going to hurt you!' the Sniper shouted.

Ah yes, just the kind of thing a nice, caring person would need to say. The Spy clenched his hands into fists. He might have been a shadow of his former self, but he was still a spy. The Sniper had been a fool for assuming he'd drink something an enemy hid while preparing for him. The brown glass and label on the bottle had no doubt helped hide the drug inside as it dissolved, but it had also hidden that he'd only touched it to his lips, never drank.

'Oh come on! Come back. Now! Get back here, _now!'_

Just as it hadn't taken the Sniper long to change tactics when rejected, now his tone turned ugly and demanding, his real self showing through the innocent demeanour.

'No one will ever care for you like I do! No one!'

The Spy sure hoped that was true.

The Sniper stalked back and forth in a rage, muttering to himself. He obviously assumed the Spy had already left the area and the Spy had no interest in correcting him.

The Spy took the time to observe his surroundings. He could see the enemy base from here, but the Sniper's home was closer to the battlefield than to it. Even without his invisiwatch, the Spy could easily have risked leaving at any time. Funny that the Sniper hadn't mentioned that.

After ten or so minutes, the Sniper finally gave up, slamming the door behind himself.

The Spy let out a soft sigh of relief and slowly picked his way back to base, shivering in his underwear and mask in the slowly gathering gloom.

By the time he made it back to base, his feet were bleeding from the rough terrain, but his head had cleared. He knew this could only be the beginning. If the Sniper had turned on him so after a gentle rejection, he couldn't imagine what the next step up might be. The Spy couldn't stay here any longer. He had to leave, and as soon as possible.

He couldn't let himself be treated like something less than human ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: attempts to drug someone with implied sexual intent. Mentions of bondage and past trauma.
> 
> A huge thanks to Bardock Lives for looking over this chapter, and so speedily too!


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